


Star Crossed What-If's

by KirkwallsChamp



Series: Star Crossed What-Ifs [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mild Spoilers, Possible Spoilers, in-game dialogue based, in-game text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkwallsChamp/pseuds/KirkwallsChamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. </p>
<p>Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.</p>
<p>A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting the Drunken Mistake "Right"

 

 _ **One particular night,**_ after their triumphant return to Kirkwall, Hawke awoke from a sweat-soaked nightmare, and made the trip from Hightown to the Hanged Man. It was far after hours, though the bartender was familiar with the apostate, and let her slip inside without another word.

Varric awoke to the sound of Hawke shuffling drunkenly into his room, slurring, “I thought you’d be awake at this hour… I’m disappointed in you.”

Varric pushed his hair out of his face, smirking.

“What in Andraste’s flaming knickers name are you doing here? Its almost daybreak.”

Hawke sat down heavily on his bed, eyelids fluttering.

“my mind won’t calm,” she said solemnly, “I keep dreaming about possessions and Carver, and the deep roads. Everything brings me back there.”

Varric nodded, “I hear that. You have one more drink in you?”

Hawke nodded, sleepily, “Maybe ONE more.”

They stayed awake for a few hours more, but as Varric pulled out his most recent writing to get Hawke’s opinion on it, he saw that her eyes were closed, her face buried in his pillow, breathing in his scent softly.

He edged to the end of the bed, chuckling to himself, and drew the blanket up over her shoulders. He moved a cushion off his armchair and began to set up a makeshift cot for the night. As he moved quietly past the bed, a hand brushed his forearm and caused him to stop.

“y…you don’t have to.” Hawke said quietly.

“Don’t do this Hawke. You’re not thinking straight.” Varric cautioned. Hawke bit her lip, thinking for a moment.

“I may be drunk, but you are too,” she said, attempting at reasoning, “I won’t do anything, I promise… I’m just afraid of being alone right now.”

Varric sighed, and under his breath he groaned, “its not you I’m worried about.”

After a few more moments, he conceded, and, after placing the cushion between them in the bed, climbed in beside her.

They lay in silence for a moment, until Hawke turned and lay face to face with him. She scrunched her eyes tight, and smiled.

“you are wonderful,” she sighed drunkenly, attempting to push past the cushion, succeeding in burying her face in his chest hair. Varric was frozen in surprise. He hadn’t been in bed with a woman in a long time, and he wasn’t used to any physical touching, beyond the accidental grazes that occurred during their travels. He was beginning to think that those weren’t accidental.

“Hawke… What are you doing?”

Varric’s mind ran through all of the past moments when Hawke had caught his eye, caused his heart to race faster. She was his best friend, but there was always something underneath all that, a feeling he’d suppressed, never allowing it to take purchase. He had been hurt many times before, he knew better than to get involved with brilliant women. They were nothing but trouble.

And yet. Here she was. Lying in his bed, her face pressed flat to his chest, breathing hot against him. His heart thumped loudly, and he felt a swelling in him, involuntarily.

“oh maker,” he sighed, moving to quickly remove himself before Hawke realized what was happening.

Hawke seemed upset as he moved away from her. He angled away and pushed himself to the edge of the bed.

“Varric, I… For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” she whispered, biting back tears.

“what are you sorry about?” Varric asked, confusedly over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what led me here tonight, but it was a mistake. It’ll be light soon, maybe I should just go home.”

Hawke seemed to be sobering up, though her face was flushed and she seemed troubled.

Varric watched as Hawke swung her legs over the bed, but she froze.

“Varric, did I take off my pants?” she asked, flushing a deep scarlet now.

“Hawke… Don’t go just yet.” Varric suppressed a grin, “I can’t get up to see you off anyhow.”

Hawke pounced on Varric at that moment, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulling him backward towards the bed. Her hips caught on the cushion between them, but she held his back to her chest desperately.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. I don’t care if its a drunk mistake. I want you. I need you…” the last part of the sentence was hissed into his ear, as she pulled herself over the cushion.

Varric’s heart throbbed again. He sat in silence, shoulders tense.

“please, say something… Anything,” she pleaded.

Varric squirmed out of her reach, and turned to face her.

“Hawke… If we do this, there’s no telling how it will affect us going forward. Do you really want to throw away everything for one drunk night?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know Varric, but its too late. We already know that there’s something there! I can’t deny it anymore. Please!”

She unconsciously took his hand in her own, running a finger softly over his knuckles.

“please.”

Varric’s heart was pounding. He bit back the rush of emotions and took the bottle of whiskey off the bedside table, gulping it down quickly.

“This is going to be the biggest mistake of our lives, isn’t it?”

“why don’t we find out?”

Hawke crawled across the bed, and straddled Varric’s lap, gazing deep into his eyes. They both flushed, and chuckled nervously. Hawke tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind Varric’s ear, and followed the strong line of his jaw to his chin, which she tilted upward into a deep kiss. Her tongue teased his lips open, exploring his mouth tenderly. His tongue met her in turn, and they kissed hungrily. Varric took her hand, breathing hard, and kissed at her knuckles, then her palm, as her hand slid back toward his cheek. She moaned softly in pleasure as his lips guided themselves up her arm, to her shoulder, and then as his lips gave way to teeth lightly grazing her neck. He nipped and sucked gently at her neck and collarbone, causing her to moan louder. His hands explored her gently, and slowly found their way up her shirt.

Hawke’s hips bucked slightly as Varric’s hands traced her breasts, and she gasped as he began to play with her nipples. He teased them softly, before Hawke tore off her shirt, begging him to ravish her more.

He obliged, running his tongue over her breasts, one eye open watching her shiver in delight. His member throbbed painfully beneath her, begging for release. A hiss escaped his parted lips as her hips bucked against him again, and she smirked, her hands trailing his chest hair, his stomach, his thigh. Her hands slipped under the cord of his breeches, teasing and tender, releasing his throbbing cock. She stroked it once, base to tip, and climbed gingerly off his lap. He looked slightly forlorn, until she lay her chin on his thigh, thoughtfully. Her knees planted firmly on the floor, she took him inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around him, gently.

“Maker’s breath,” he moaned, hips pumping slightly in rhythm with her strokes, bringing his passion closer and closer to the edge. She teased him, straying from his tip to lap tenderly at his thighs, balls, and once more at the base of his cock, before taking him in fully once more.

He groaned an, “I’m getting close, fuck!” before she relented, stopping herself and beginning to climb back upon his lap.

“If this is the only time we’re going to make this mistake, I’d like to make it right,” she said with a laugh, reaching to pull off her undergarments and preparing for him to enter her.

Varric had a better idea though. He grabbed her arms, and guided her back to the edge of the bed, propping her hips up underneath what was previously a modesty cushion. He stood up off the bed, showing that now he was the right height to take her from behind.

“this might be a bit more enjoyable than getting leg cramps while on top of me,” he chuckled, “if we are going to make this mistake ‘right’.”

And with that he peeled off Hawke’s moist undergarments, marveling at her naked form for a moment. He leaned in, hot breathing on her thighs, then tasting her suddenly, causing a slight gasp of surprise to escape her lips. He grinned wickedly, giving her ass a light smack, and positioned himself. She pressed her hips towards him eagerly, and their bodies met. He slid into her easily, and he grunted in pleasure. His natural instincts took over as he pumped in and out of her, watching her become wild, ravenous at his touch. Each movement brought a moan, til she was screaming his name. Varric was relentless, til he was on the very edge. He wanted Hawke to enjoy this just as much as he was going to.

He slid his hand down Hawke’s hip, until his fingers lightly grazed her most sensitive spot. He played with her tenderly, in time with his own pumping, which had slowed to a gentle rhythm. He didn’t want to come yet, not without her. He could tell soon that she was getting close. Her movements became wild and desperate, and she sought to take control. Her hips bucked hard against him, as she screamed, “oh maker I’m coming!” and he matched her passion— he came back to the edge and tumbled over with her, both of them coming and moaning together.

They collapsed in a heap on the bed, Varric just barely managing to land next to her. She wiped his blonde hair out of his eyes, and smiled softly at him.

“thank you.” she said, after a moment of labored breathing in silence.

Varric couldn’t help but laugh, “For what? One drunken night of passion and a bed to pass out in?”

Hawke was quiet for a moment, but Varric knew they didn’t need any other words. He was spent, and didn’t want to think about the implications of what they’d just done. He particularly didn’t look forward to what would happen if anyone, ANYONE getting wind of what had just happened. Bianca would surely have his hide, and Carver would likely try to kill him. Possibly Aveline too.

He sighed.

“good night Hawke.”

But he realized Hawke had fallen asleep, feeling her breath on his chest again.

He pulled her close, resting his chin on her head, thoughtfully. Breathing in the smell of her hair, a wave of sleep washed over him, and he was gone.

 


	2. Reconcile Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Feynriel & entrance into the Fade, wherein everyone but Justice abandons Hawke

_**Hawke was so deeply hurt when Varric succumbed in the Fade**_ that she didn’t speak to him for at least a week. She honestly didn’t do much in the time she stayed away, other than answer letters and stay with her mother. She even refused to see him after the fourth day, when he came to Hightown personally. He could tell she was upset.

He had to find a way to make things right.

Hawke resigned to herself that she shouldn’t care as much as she did. He wasn’t hers, she didn’t know how much pain he harbored from Bartrand, and she knew she couldn’t stay mad at him forever. She made her way down to the Hanged Man, where she found Varric with his back to her. He could hear her approach however, and took a deep breath.

“Listen, Hawke… I’m so sorry about what happened… You know, back there. That whole time we were in the Fade, nothing felt real. Which… Makes sense, considering.

Anyway, I want you to know I would never choose a demon over you while conscious or sober.”

Hawke half smiled.

“So I don’t have to worry you’ll run off with a desire demon unless you’re passed out drunk?”

“I can safely say, milady, that if I am passed out drunk, I’m not running anywhere.” he smirked.

Hawke looked at him, smile fading slightly.

“Varric…” His name barely left her lips, “It really hurt me. I need to know you won’t do this again. I just don’t know that I can trust you… I might need some time to think.”

Varric looked hurt. His hand traced up the back of his neck, ruffling his hair.

“Shit. I guess I understand… Take all the time you need. I’ll be here then, when you’re ready to start again.”

Hawke lingered for a moment, eyes locked on the dwarf. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to make sure he hadn’t somehow left her alone again. She knew this wasn’t the best course of action, however, and resigned herself to a little time to think.

As she got ready to leave, she found herself putting a hand on Varric’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I’ll be at Aveline’s, if you need anything.”

“Going to give her the gauntlet too?” he chuckled.

Hawke shook her head, “Oh, she already got an earful, believe me.”

Varric gave her a thoughtful nod.

“Listen, why don’t you invite everyone down here tonight for a drink. Call it a group exercise in camaraderie or some shit. Just get everyone down here. Drinks are on me. We’ll all get really drunk and patch things up.”

Hawke looked him up and down, “Do you really think that’s a good idea? Do you remember what happened the last time we got piss drunk together?”

Varric cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking red in the face as he turned away from Hawke.

“Didn’t we promise not to talk about that?”

A very specific image of Varric shirtless and breathless came to mind, and it was Hawke’s turn to blush.

“I– I meant the time Fenris and Anders were drunk and started arguing about the semantics in Magic and Tevinter,” she sputtered, also looking away.

The two stood in tense silence for a moment, before Varric cracked a grin.

“Ah, right. That time. Well, Aveline and I can babysit Justice while Isabela watches over our broody friend. How does that sound?”

A lean, manicured hand wrapped around Hawke’s shoulder, giving it a delicate squeeze, and another arm looped gracefully around Varric’s neck.

“Lets be honest, most of our friends are broody,” Isabela said with a wink.

Hawke and Varric turned to look at their pirate queen friend with a grin.

“Isabela, dear sweet scourge of the seas, how would you like to join us for a group exercise in camaraderie or some shit tonight?” Varric asked with a laugh.

She looked between them thoughtfully, “Are you sure you want everyone under one roof again? Last time the boys nearly destroyed the guest bedroom at Gamlen’s.”

Hawke smirked, “Gamlen had it coming, the way he instigated the fight.”

Isabela nodded, “And you promised me a drink to make up for me pulling Fenris off of Anders.”

Hawke interlaced her fingers in Isabela’s, guiding the hand off her shoulder gingerly. She noticed Varric’s eyebrow raise just slightly, but tried to ignore it.

“Please, Isabela? Come tonight… For me?”

Isabela giggled, “For you Hawke? Anything. count me in. I’ll be here anyhow, after I scout out a few more leads on my artifact.”

With that, she lifted her arm from around Varric’s neck and walked out of the Hanged Man, hips swaying gently.

Varric watched her walk away, and shook his head.

“She’s quite a woman, huh.”

Hawke looked at him, confused by his commentary.

“I guess she is? What makes you say that?”

Varric shook his head, “Nothing. Go get Aveline, and meet back here tonight. I’ll handle Blondie and Broody.”

And with that, he carried himself quickly out of the Hanged Man.

—–

Hawke walked quickly through Hightown, and up to the Viscount’s Keep. She stood tentatively in front of the Guard Captain’s door, painfully aware of the fight they'd had previously. Losing her nerve, Hawke began to turn around and nearly ran straight into Guardsman Donnic, followed closely behind by Aveline. They looked at each other in surprised silence, before Donnic cleared his throat to break the tension in the air.

“I’ll leave you two alone here,” he said, pushing past Hawke and leaving space between the two women.

Aveline looked at Hawke, unsure of what to say.

Hawke broke the silence first, “Aveline… First off, I’m sorry we ended things on such a bad note last time we talked… Do you have a moment?”

Aveline conceded, and allowed Hawke into her office, closing the door behind them. They caught up for a couple hours, apologizing for what was said previously, and they decided to agree to disagree at the moment about the mage's complications. They sat and drank tea together in a moment of comfortable silence, before Hawke drew her knees to her chin while sitting in the windowsill, overlooking Hightown.

“Aveline? Can I ask you something?”

Aveline peered over he teacup at Hawke, “I suppose, if you think I can answer, ask away.”

Hawke balanced her teacup on her knees, staring into its depths.

“Hawke, is something the matter?”

Hawke mumbled into the cup, “I think I’ve fallen for Varric.”

a moment of silence.

“And?”

Aveline smirked as Hawke’s mouth dropped open.

“And, I don’t know how to be around him without becoming this awkward, pitiful thing!” She moaned into the teacup.

Aveline crossed the room to put a hand on Hawke’s shoulder, in consolation.

“Hawke, we’ve known you were smitten with him since the moment you met him. We just thought you knew too.”

Hawke chuckled slightly.

“I suppose I should have. But Aveline, you don’t understand… We’ve gotten… Familiar.”

Aveline took a drink of tea.

“We ended up having sex,” Hawke confessed.

Aveline spat the tea out in surprise.

“And why are you telling me?! Andraste’s grace Hawke I don’t want to know that!”

Hawke groaned, swinging her legs back down to the floor, and standing up.

“And now he wants us to get together tonight at the Hanged Man, to try and ease the tensions between everyone, especially since the Feynriel Fade-venture, and I just, I need you to come with me tonight. Please Aveline, please please please!” Hawke had rounded on Aveline, pleading.

Aveline looked upon her old friend, uncomfortable.

“Hawke, how is me being there going to help?”

“You’ll be my buffer!” Hawke said, dropping Aveline’s hand, and placing the teacup on her desk, “Besides, Varric loves talking to you! Fenris loves talking to you! Isabela loves teasing you,” she cursed herself for ending on Isabela, “And I need you. You’re like a big, over-protective sister to me.”

Aveline looked at Hawke, blinking in slight surprise, being taken off guard at Hawke’s candid mention of her sisterly status.

After a moment, she conceded, setting her teacup down with a light clatter.

“Fine, Hawke. I’ll be there tonight, but don’t expect me to stick around long. If Isabela makes some sort of comment about me and my guardsmen I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Hawke took Aveline’s hands in hers, and squeezed tightly, grinning ear to ear, “Thank you Aveline! You’re the best!”

She left Aveline shaking her head and laughing softly to herself as Hawke nearly skipped out of the room.


	3. Reconcile pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself.
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Feynriel & entrance into the Fade, wherein everyone but Justice abandons Hawke; Varric begs Hawke to set up a group meeting to bring everyone's trust back.
> 
> relies somewhat on personal Hawke headcanon --- hope you still enjoy!

**Varric ordered the next round of drinks for everyone** , and though conversation was tense and hushed at first, the night went on and the group fell into their old habits. Anders sat on the end of the table nearer to Hawke’s left, trying to engage her in a talk about the most recent addition to his Manifesto, while Fenris fell in beside Isabela, to Hawke’s right. He spoke in hushed tones to Isabela, who nodded listening to his points thoughtfully. Varric seemed to find himself on the other end of the table, as far away from Hawke as he could, with Aveline and Merrill politely conversing about the weather and the most recent crime scene’s they’d stumbled upon in their walks or patrols in Lowtown. He reminded himself he needed to pay off the flower cart owner in the Alienage to put daisies on Merrill’s doorstep next week for her birthday. As time came for their next round, and everyone was growing chatty with each other, Varric pulled out his deck of cards.

“Who’s up for a round of Wicked Grace?”

Hawke laughed, “I haven’t played Wicked Grace since I was little! I think I’d need a little refresher.”

“Well Hawke, I don’t mind showing you how. If you’re interested?” Isabela winked.

Varric looked across the table at the buxom beauty leaning heavily against Hawke. She patted at Hawke’s hands, caressing her when she spoke, giving off flirtatious body language that irritated him. He corrected himself, it wasn’t his place to be getting annoyed by this. He had no reason to be. Tonight was all an exercise in getting everyone to play nice, after all. Why risk calling her out on it, when everyone was finally beginning to build back up?

Even so, he couldn’t help but notice his mood was souring.

“Rivaini, I hope you’re not planning on teaching Hawke to cheat?”

Isabela scoffed, bending over the table to take the cards from Varric.

“Master Tethras, I never. Perish the thought. A pretty lady like Hawke doesn’t need to cheat, she just needs to learn to strategize. Everyone has their own gimmicks, after all. Unless… you’d rather play Truth or Dare?”

She gauged the table with a wink and a wicked grin. the group nodded in assention, though Fenris flatly stated he’d take no part in the game.

Varric grinned in turn, “You couldn’t pay me enough to play. I like to keep my useless facts and asinine stunts to myself, thanks.”

Isabela frowned in reply.

“Come on Varric… For me?”

Varric shook his head, taking a swig of ale.

“For Hawke?”

Hawke couldn’t help but cast him a curious sideways glance.

“Hey, if Broody the elf can sit out, why do I get the Andrastian Inquisition?” he groaned.

“Fine, you spoilsport. You don’t have to play,” Isabela chuffed, waving the waitress down to bring another round of drinks.

Each member of the merry band took an ale in hand before they began.

“Last one to finish their drink takes the first’s challenge!” Isabela declared, giving Hawke a grin and a wink, “Sound fair?”

Hawke nodded in unison with Merrill and Aveline, while Anders chuckled in agreement.

“Fenris, be a dear and call it, will you?” Isabela purred, poising to begin her drink.

Wordlessly Fenris raised a gauntleted hand and lowered it while taking a long draught from his own drink– and they began!

Isabela was expected to be the front runner, but Merrill surprised everyone by seemingly pouring it down her throat and slamming the cup down with a bang, a good seven seconds before anyone else. Isabela shortly followed, then Aveline and a sputtering Hawke, who pounded on her chest while coughing loudly. She pointedly didn’t make eye contact with a now smirking Varri c. Anders finished last with a loud gulp. Merrill smiled as he placed his cup back on the table softly.

Everyone else quizzically eyed the doe-eyed elf in an awed silence.

“What did you expect?” She grinned, shrugging. The group erupted in a fit of laughter in reply.

“Daisy vs Rivaini– we’ll have to see that one later,” Varric laughed, throwing back his drink.

“Here, Here!” Isabela roared with a smile, raising another glass to Merrill, “But I believe the first question is yours, to Anders.”

Merrill looked curiously at the mage.

“Well Anders, truth or dare?”

Anders didn’t consider for long before he simply stated, “truth.”

Merrill nodded, “Where are you from?”

Anders smirked.

“Why do you think they called me ‘Anders’? I’m from the Anderfells.”

The group looked at him, suddenly interests piqued.

“You mean that’s not your real name?” Merrill asked, leaning across the table toward him. Anders simply tutted in reply.

“No longer your turn,” he said with a sly grin, “In fact, I believe it is now mine.”

Anders eyed Hawke across the table, before issuing his challenge over steepled fingers.

“truth or dare?”

Hawke sighed heavily.

“Truth.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Hawke reddened in the face and looked stonily at the tabletop, suddenly very interested in the grain of the rough wood.

Varric tried to not show any emotion, though he felt Aveline’s gaze flash in his direction.

After a moment Hawke spoke.

“No, I’m not a virgin, Anders.”

Anders smiled back at her, “Was it someone in the group?”

Hawke scoffed.

“Its not YOUR turn anymore… but no, it wasn’t anyone in this group.”

The table grew silent, introspective. Isabela leaned onto her elbows on the table in Hawke’s direction, asking, “Care to elaborate?”

“It was a while ago… Back in Ostagar. That’s where my family settled the longest. When my brother started training to join King Cailan’s army, we lived on the outskirts of town. The guy’s name was Bennet. He was a farmhand.”

“Was it serious?” Varric’s curiosity got the best of him.

Hawke nodded.

“My mother wagered we’d have gotten married at some point…”

She took a drink.

Merrill drew her knees to her chest, resting her narrow chin on them.

“What happened?”

Hawke sighed. After a moment of silence, she spoke.

“He died. During the fight at the start of the blight. My brother tried to save him, but the other soldiers pulled him out of the fray before he could. The only thing Carver brought back was a silly strap of leather he used to wear around his neck.”

Varric noticed Hawke’s fingers coiled around her wrist, where a thin cord snaked tightly, the skin around it lightly tanned as she fiddled with the bracelet. He wanted to reach over and give Hawke a gentle pat, but Isabela beat him to it, wrapping Hawke in a slight hug.

“Say no more, Lets drop the subject,” she suggested, tucking Hawke’s head protectively into her chest.

Hawke nodded, mouth suddenly dry, and moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t thought about Bennet in a long time. She sniffed, collecting herself, before continuing the game.

As the night went on, and the group ran out of secrets to divulge as truths, their dares became more and more outlandish.

Hawke dared Isabela at one point to dance pantless on the bartop, and much to the bartender’s chagrin, she obliged. Other dares included Merrill singing a Dalish tune about the trickster god’s affinity for asses as loudly as she could without breaking out in laughter, and a nearly literal pissing contest between Anders and a drunk patron who joined the game for a couple rounds out of spite for a date who hadn’t shown up.

At last, as Aveline bowed out for the night, giving Hawke a firm but warm squeeze on the shoulder, Anders issued Hawke a most interesting challenge.

Anders slurred as he eyed his fellow mage, “Truth, or Dare?”

Hawke grinned, equally sloppy, as the room buzzed around her, “Dare, good serrah! Bring it on!”

Varric rolled his eyes. Everyone was getting shit-faced, and it was getting to the point where it might be a good idea to call it a night.

“I dare you,” Anders roared, flailing an arm as he spoke in her direction, “To kiss me. Deeply.”

While his cheeks were flushed, Varric couldn’t help but think at this point it wasn’t just the drink that burned his ears.

“Hawke, I don’t know that–”

Hawke spun on Varric, eyes narrowing.

“You’re not playing, what do you care?”

Varric snapped his mouth shut in reply, his lip curling slightly in annoyance.

“Well, then by all means, go right ahead.”

Hawke turned back to the mage, tucking a piece of his strawberry blonde hair behind his ear.

“Dare accepted, my good Serrah,”

the words rolled off her tongue as she leaned in. Anders’ lips opened as he accepted. His chin was scratchy with a five o'clock shadow he never seemed able to get rid of, but Hawke couldn’t help but recall Varric’s strong jawline as she kissed him. He tasted of ale and a bit like the bitter elfroot he worked with so often. Hawke longed to remember Varric’s taste. She coaxed his lips open further, snaking her tongue in, dancing it in his mouth just enough to elicit a ragged breath. His fingers tensed on her shoulders in reply, and they broke apart, breathing heavily.

Isabela hooted in reply, laughing heartily. Merrill blushed, but looked on.

Varric felt sick to his stomach.

“I need some air,” he huffed, pushing away from the table and walking out to the front of the Hanged Man, leaving everyone else in an awkward silence.

The group exchanged glances quietly, unsure of how to continue. Isabela looked at Hawke, confused.

“The next round is on me,” Hawke waved the waitress over, and as the drinks arrived, she excused herself and headed out to the front of the tavern.

Varric sat in the dirt in front of the bar, willing himself not to vomit on his shoes. Normally he could hold his liquor, but something about the night left a sour taste in his mouth, coupled with bile.

The door snapped closed with a click, and he startled. Varric whirled around to see Hawke, hand still on the handle, running her eyes up and down the dwarf curiously.

“You mind telling me what just happened? Because I’d love to fill everyone in.”

“I needed some air,” He snapped in reply, motioning to dirty alleyway in front of them which was now spinning in his eyes.

“Varric, if you’re feeling bad, I’m not sure this is the place to refresh,” Hawke tried to lighten the mood. She rounded the dwarf and sat down in the dirt beside him, grunting at the effort.

Varric couldn’t stop himself.

“Kissing everyone now? Or just manic depressive blondes?”

“It was a dare, Varric. One little kiss never hurt anyone. It was consentual, short, and it meant nothing. We’re all a little drunk, and when we get drunk, we tend to get a little bit… ” Hawke trailed off, motioning lazy circles with her hand.

Varric massaged his temples with his hand, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, vexed.

“Anders didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him… I’m worried you’re leading him on Hawke–”

“You’re worried about him? or you?” anger flashed in Hawke’s voice, “You seem like the only one bothered by this. So tell me honestly, why do you even care?! He wasn’t the one who abandoned me in the fade, AFTER we had sex mind you, and he wasn’t the one who refused to talk to me afterward!”

“Well he sounds just perfect for you! Why don’t you just go be with him then!” Varric spat back, after which he gagged and spat phlegm on the ground, groaning slightly. the ground seemed the only stable thing now.

Hawke paused, subconsciously letting her hand settle in the small of his back, rubbing gently.

“Varric…” She said after a moment, “We may see eye to eye on some things, but I don’t love him. I mean it when I say it was just a drink-fueled kiss, caused by a dare. It didn’t mean anything….”

“Its not just about him…”

Varric’s voice came as a hoarse whisper as he collected Hawke’s hand in his own. He was far too drunk for this, he knew it.

Hawke’s eyes followed as his fingers fumbled around her wrist, searching for the bracelet. Once he found it, he curled the excess of leather around his pointer finger, binding her wrist to it briefly. He watched as the leather ate into her skin, leaving white lines. He let it go after a moment, but his point was made. The skin bounced back, a red trail left where it had been pulled taut.

Hawke grasped his hand after he let go, squeezing briefly before letting it down, and scooping his chin and holding it so he looked her in the face.

“Varric, what happened with Bennet was years ago. I had to grieve and move on. I am moved on.”

“Then why all this?”

Hawke swallowed, then continued, “People die, Varric. Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean we should forget them completely.”

Varric sighed.

“I’m acting like an ass.”

“No more so than usual,” Hawke chuckled, running her thumb over his stubble.

She could smell him. He smelled like ale, leather, ink and just a hint of spice she couldn’t place. Right now, he also smelled a bit musky. She didn’t mind, though. It suited him. Varric lay back heavily, and Hawke joined him. She intertwined her arm in his.

“Did you love him?”

The question caught her off guard. She braced herself to answer, though she couldn’t muster more than a low voice. Varric could hear her voice break as she spoke, though she tried to hide it from him.

“I did.”

Varric untangled their arms and gruffly slid an arm under her, pulling her hips close to his, not saying a word.

He was processing. He hadn’t known there’d been someone before him. He should have guessed; Hawke was far from virginal, he knew that, but at the same time, he didn’t like thinking of anyone having gone before. Thinking that some farmhand had led her off somewhere, his rough fingers fumbling over her soft skin as they loved passionately–

He willed himself not to think about it. He scrunched his eyes shut tight, the world still spinning slightly.

“Maybe we should get you back inside,” Hawke huffed, mopping a sleeve over her cheek as she pulled herself off her back.

Varric’s hand followed her as she sat up, grazing her hip distractedly. She met it with her own, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“I’m going to wish everyone good night, and then I’m getting you back to your room, Varric,” she said cautiously. She stood gingerly, watching to make sure she wasn’t disturbing the dwarf.

“I’ll be back with some water.”

The door opened and closed with a click as Hawke slid back inside. Gracefully she explained that Varric had had far too much to drink, and that she needed to put him to bed. Hawke noticed as she entered that Anders’ eyes had snapped to her and hadn’t left as she spoke. She realized there may have been something to Varric’s warning after all, but reminded herself that that was an issue for another day. For now, she advised everyone that she and Varric would be taking a break from the festivities, as she got him back into a state he’d prefer to be seen in.

Merrill and Isabela nodded. Fenris waved goodbye as he stood to go, Isabela catching his arm with her slender hand, and the two of them walked out together.

“Mind the dwarf on your way out, I left him awful close to the door!” Hawke cautioned, fetching a glass of water to bring Varric before she attempted to move him. Merrill followed tentatively as Hawke headed for the door again. Anders was left alone at the table, staring glumly into his drink.

Hawke found Varric on his feet, though wobbly, with an arm braced against the Hanged Man. She handed him the water, watching as it poured halfway down his chin as he drank. He nodded thankfully to her as he handed the glass back, and leaned his head back against the cool wall. Wordlessly she hooked her arms underneath his and led him back into the Hanged man, steering him around obstacles and toward the back of the tavern. She paused only to give Anders an apologetic wave, which he grimly returned.

Varric found himself back in his room moments later. Hawke helped him onto the bed, and kneeled at his feet, beginning to help him remove his boots and gloves. He obliged, letting her soft hands work as they would. He shimmied out of his duster, allowing Hawke to take it and hang it over the side of his chair.

“I owe you one.” he sighed, closing his eyes.

Hawke smiled, her hand finding its way to the binding on his hair, and untying it. She fluffed his hair gently.

“You don’t owe me anything. You know that.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to keep saying it though.”

Hawke looked at Varric, unable to hide her fondness for the dwarf. She wrapped her fingers in his collar and pulled herself close to him.

Varric saw a figure just slightly beyond the doorway as Hawke leaned closer, not registering that they were being watched. He recognized the blonde hair and gaunt face to be Anders, and sat upright suddenly.

“Hawke, don’t–”

She placed a finger on his lips to stop him.

“Varric, please…” She leaned in close once more, feeling his breath gently on her face, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even when I was kissing him, I could only think of you.”

Varric’s heart sank as Anders seemed to visibly deflate. He turned to go, not waiting to see what would come next.  

Varric looked back up at Hawke.

“I think you may have hurt Blondie’s feelings,” he sighed, motioning at the door quietly. Hawke whirled around, but the mage had since departed.

“What was he doing there?!” She groaned, flopping onto her back beside the dwarf. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“The hell if I know… Probably trying to catch you after you put me to bed.”

Hawke bit her lip. She supposed that might make sense. But he had to know she didn’t care for him in that way! He said himself that he wasn’t a good choice romantically. She didn’t know. Perhaps that was his own way of crying out for help…

Varric leaned back, now lying flush with Hawke. They both stared at the ceiling, not saying a word.

Hawke half expected Varric to reprimand her for her actions. Instead, after a long silence, he reached up and plucked the bottle of water from his bedside table, sloshing it around in the air haphazardly.

“It may not be the smartest thing you’ve ever done, but I’m not one to lecture… about morality or otherwise. Do what you want to, Hawke.”

She was sure he meant well, but it didn’t help her feel any better.

“I’m an idiot.”

“No more so than I am,” Varric sighed, leaning over tentatively before kissing her softly. he placed the water bottle back on the bedside table, leaning heavily on Hawke. she grabbed his chin, guiding it back to her face. She had wanted this all night, after all.


	4. Healing Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric chastises Hawke about her healing habits

**_"Hawke, stop healing me first!"_ **

Varric's voice rang out in the stillness of the clearing as everyone breathed heavily in the moment of silence.

Hawke looked incredulously at the dwarf. Was he being serious?

"I haven't been! I heal whoever seems like they need it most at the time. Maybe its usually Anders?"

"Except that it usually isn't," Anders chuckled under his breath.

Hawke shot him a dirty look.

"Heal yourself first! You usually need it more than I do anyway."

Varric was exasperated. She could tell by the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he spoke.

Hawke rolled her eyes as she looked away, sighing, "Whatever you say, Varric."

Aveline called from around the bend, "More incoming! Prepare yourselves!"

Varric loaded Bianca quickly, adjusting her sights and getting into a position to avoid kickback. In his peripheral vision, he noted that Hawke stared incessantly at him, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Anders began muttering incantations, and Hawke followed suite. He noticed the summoning sign glowing bright green at Aveline's feet, a gentle green light washing over her. She tensed as the first enemy rounded the bend; a gigantic highwayman, sword swinging in wide arcs overhead. She met him, speeding forward, and bashed him heavily with her shield. No doubt the spell Anders had cast was one of haste, as she moved quickly and efficiently from target to target.

They were quickly nearly overrun, however, as more of the highwaymen joined the fray.

Varric dropped his caltrops on the ground and hurled himself backward as a highwayman grazed his side with their blade. He groped at the wound, a ragged breath tearing through as he hissed in pain. Nothing but a shallow cut, he thought.

Then he felt it.

Bathed in blue light, he felt the skin knit back together quickly as he whirled around, meeting Hawke's gaze.

Anders stood at her back, sending a cone of flame toward his attackers while Hawke's staff was still outstretched in Varric's direction. He shot her an angry look, only to have it dissolve into horror at what he saw. A highwayman had broken through the choke point Aveline had cornered and had deftly rounded Anders' flames. Seeing his chance, he brought his sword down quickly into Hawke's shoulder.

Blood spattered the ground around them as Hawke felt flesh rend from bone. She screamed, recoiling back into Anders before collapsing to the ground, fingers convulsing around her upper arm. Anders fumbled his spell for a brief moment, before knocking back the men around them with a quick short jolt of magical shock wave. Varric had to help--

He aimed Bianca and let loose several quick shots, taking enemies down with precision.

"Aveline! We have a bit of a situation over here!" Varric's voice came out as little more than a hoarse cry.

Aveline came to their aid after simply beheading the last of the attackers around her.

The one who'd taken down Hawke now stood over her, smugly eyeing his prey. Hawke was still crying out as he brought his sword down, slashing across the left side of her face. He misjudged the direction, however, as Hawke scooted back onto her haunches. He caught her deep in the cheek, slicing from beside her nose to her upper lip. Hawke tasted blood and her ears rang loudly as she threatened to give way to shock. Launching herself upright, the mage made a last desperate attempt to knock the man prone. He laughed, watching her sluggish movements, and cracked her across the chin with the heel of his hand, sending Hawke sprawling-- but not before she managed to palm the hand of her good arm to his chest, casting a lightning bolt that knocked the man off his feet.

Hawke collapsed as the man fell on his ass, who met quickly with an arrow in the neck courtesy of Bianca. Varric followed that with a few more volleys of arrows, just to be on the safe side.

"Hawke? Stay with us!"

She couldn't pick out who was speaking. Her ears continued to ring painfully.

"Hawke!"

Her arms were leaden, but the pain was absent.

"Anders, come quick! We're losing her!"

The party crowded around the mage's crumpled form. She felt numbness now, everything bathed in a layer of fog. Her vision swam as Varric came into her line of sight, quickly dropping to his knees and cradling her chin in his broad hands.

"Hawke, look at me. Keep still, but talk to me. I need you to wake up. Please."

he sounded so distant, she thought, his voice tinged in more than a little sadness.

"Varric? Why are you so sad? I don't hurt anymore..."

Tears clouded Varric's vision, threatening to fall on Hawke's face as he cradled her close.

"Blondie! Its now or never, and it better be now!"

He didn't take his eyes off Hawke as he spoke, voice raised and fear coloring it. Anders entered Hawke's line of sight as the mage placed a hand squarely on her chest.

"Close your eyes, Hawke. This will not be pleasant."

Pain jolted through her as Anders' hand glowed an intense blue. A scream tore through her throat.

"Hold her still, Aveline," Anders voice was commanding.

"Why didn't you listen?" Varric muttered angrily, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He sat hunched over her now, smelling nothing but the sickening iron leaving her body.

After what seemed like an eternity of tense silence, Anders let go of her shoulder.

"Its too deep," he confessed, "I've done what I can for now. We can try another treatment after we return, but if I don't stop now, even I won't make it back to Kirkwall TO try again."

"Is she...?" Varric couldn't bring himself to ask. She felt cold in his hands, and the screaming had died in her throat some time during Anders' treatment.

"She's stable Varric. That's the best we can hope for right now. The blade disconnected bone and muscle, and she's lost a lot of blood. We need to get her back to Hightown.

 

\------------------------------

 

Hawke awoke with a start, causing pain to shoot through her shoulder as she stirred.

Sweat thoroughly covered her, her sheets feeling slick and her bandages feeling worn and itchy. She tried to orient herself as best she could.

She realized she was home in bed, back at the Amell estate.

Another wave of pain as she turned her neck a bit too quickly elicited a yelp. A shape in her peripheral shifted in response.

"You're awake."

the voice had just a hint of gratitude in it.

Hawke found that her own voice came out sounding eerily groggy. It was painful to speak.

"Varric?"

He rounded the bed to her side, sitting delicately on the edge.

"I'm here Hawke. The others left a couple hours ago, around when your mother went to bed... I told them I'd stick around until you woke up."

Hawke sighed.

"Thank you for staying," she croaked, "I guess you were right..."

"You're damn right I was right!" Varric retorted, anger flashing across his face.

Hawke shrunk back from his response, another pained hiss escaping her lips as she moved.

Varric's face softened.

"Hawke. Keeping your attention on me nearly cost us your life. All I want you to do is keep yourself safe. That's all any of us want. We know the risks of fighting by your side. We've been doing it for a while now," he chuckled to himself, "And you know me. I'm a dwarf. We're hearty. I can take a hit or two. You on the other hand-- you're squishy."

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Am I now?"

Varric shrugged in response, "You're just not quite as able to take a punch."

Hawke swung at Varric with a pillow in response, biting her lip as her shoulder twinged in reply.

"If you say so," she grouched, leaning back against the cool wooden bed frame.

Varric's smile died a bit on his lips as he watched her wince against the hardwood.

"Hawke, are you okay?"

"My shoulder is on fire. I itch everywhere," she groaned through gritted teeth.

"Feel like taking a bath?"

His question took her by surprise. She looked at him quizzically.

He tried again, "We'd been sponge bathing you over the last couple hours, but Anders recommended washing the wound sites fully before applying the next round of poultices. You're probably itchy because the most recent batch has worn off."

Hawke laughed bitterly.

"Do I look like I am capable of doing that?"

"Well... Not alone..."

Varric couldn't meet her gaze, a hand absentmindedly running up the back of his neck.

Hawke looked at him incredulously.

"Are you-- No! Absolutely not!"

She moved to draw the blanket across herself, suddenly very aware her chest was exposed to the warm air.

Of course she'd been undressed. They'd had to have had access to the wound site after all.

"Aveline forced us to let her do it alone previously, to protect your maidenly honor or something," Varric said, continuing to look away, "But the fact remains that it has to happen."

Hawke sighed. She knew deep down he was right. She just didn't want his memories of her body to be tinged like this. They'd been intimate before, and he'd seen every inch of her. But now she was scarred and broken. Would he ever be able to look at her the same again?

"Grab me my robe, wouldn't you?" she groaned, easing herself toward the edge of the bed.

Varric obliged, though his confused look showed he didn't follow her train of thought. He allowed her a moment to cover herself before following her tentatively to the Amell estate's bath house. It stood in the other corner of the gigantic home, made of cool stone and well lit rosy lanterns.

They entered the bath house together, Varric letting loose a nervous chuckle without thinking. Hawke shot him a livid look that caused his mouth to snap shut, however, and they began to draw the bath in silence.

The tub was a wide, deeply set and elegant thing, clearly modeled after those in Antivan public bath houses. Varric marveled at the design work, clearly impressed.

As steam began to obscure the room, Hawke sat on a stool beside the tub tentatively. Slowly she peeled the robe away from her sweat soaked back, pausing as it fell to her elbows.

Varric could see the edge of her scarred shoulder now, still streaked dark from dried blood and poultice.

"Varric, I can't get this off the rest of the way," she groaned, "Help me."

Slowly, he approached her, and clumsily he guided the robe from her arms. Finally it fell from her wrist, landing softly on the bath house floor. He picked it up gingerly, folding it and placing it next to the awkward mirror set against the wall near Hawke's stool. He watched as Hawke studied her face, her lips curling in slight horror as she caught sight of the nasty scar now adorning her. It split her upper lip just near the corner of her mouth on the left. It was still covered in dried blood, and seemed heavily bruised. He saw her lip quiver as she began to cry, seeming to withdraw into herself.

Varric looked away, giving her a moment to grieve. Any sort of battle scar was rough to adjust to, he knew. He watched her fingertips glow blue for a moment, as if she were trying to will the scar away, but she gave up after a moment. The damage was done, and it would likely scar no matter what, after all.

He began to remove his shirt, causing Hawke to turn on him in surprise.

"What are you doing?!" She asked, brow furrowing in his direction.

"you remove your clothes when you bathe the dog, don't you?" He asked quizzically, seeing her bristle.

"Good to know that's the comparison," she muttered darkly, looking at the stone floor.

He suddenly made the connection.

Grabbing the bucket and filling it with piping hot water, he eased himself to his knees at her back.

"Is that really what this was about?" He asked, dipping the sponge into the water.

Hawke drew her knees tightly to her chest and gave no answer, tears lightly falling down her cheeks and into her hair.

Varric moved to put her hair high on her head, out of his way. Gently he tied the bun, noting the way she'd subconsciously tried to make herself small.

"I'm going to start, okay?" He asked, priming her as he placed the sponge gently on her lower back. He began scrubbing slow, small circles, massaging gently until he saw her shoulders slack just slightly. He pulled the sponge away and placed it back in the bucket.

Leaning toward her, he pressed his lips gently against her lower back, forehead just grazing her recently washed spine.

"If its physical attraction you're worried about, you shouldn't be. Its still there." He mumbled into her.

That was the last he said about it, however.

He promptly leaned back onto his haunches and pulled the sponge back out of the bucket, pausing to ring it out as he continued. He worked his way up her back delicately, finally reaching the wound site.

It was an ugly gash, still looking deep and irritated. The skin around it puckered slightly, and it looked badly in need of dressing. It was no longer actively bleeding, however, which Varric took as a good sign. It would never be the smooth, unblemished skin he remembered it once was, however.

"I'm going to was the wound site now," he announced carefully. Hawke nodded slightly, showing she understood.

As gently as he could, he dabbed at the site with the sponge. Hawke cringed and gasped and moaned as he did, and begged him to stop after a few moments. He obliged, emptying the now dirty water and pausing to refill with fresh, hot water again.

Through gritted teeth, she addressed him, "Varric, how bad is it?"

"I won't lie, Hawke. Its not pretty."

"Will it heal?"

"it should, with proper care," He answered, nodding in agreement. A useless gesture, seeing as Hawke wasn't facing him, "It will scar though."

"Grand," she muttered, steeling herself for the next onslaught of the sponge, "Lets finish this up, then."

Varric agreed, completing the cleaning of the wound gingerly. He couldn't stand knowing that he was the reason she howled in pain as he worked. It ate him up inside.

After the wound seemed cleaner, he put down the bucket and stretched, standing up. His knees gave a throb in reply. He hadn't realized how long he'd been on them. Hawke stood in time with him, taking a step into the deep tub.

"Get in, before it gets cold," she motioned, sitting down in the steaming water.

Varric cocked his head slightly. Was she serious? She hadn't even wanted him looking at her before.

"Come on. I'm sure your knees are killing you. Just soak them a while."

After a moment of hesitation he obliged, shimmying out of his pants and underclothes, before joining her in the large pool.

"Don't get that shoulder wet," he cautioned, sitting across from her awkwardly.

He'd never been in a tub this large before. Supposedly there were dwarven bath houses like this, but damned if he knew what they were like. He suddenly felt very small and slightly light headed.

He felt Hawke's eyes on him, painfully aware that she was looking him up and down. Wordlessly she crossed the pool to him, closing the gap between them. They sat side by side in silence for a moment. Hawke reached a wet hand up and washed the dried blood from her lip carefully. Feeling it to be sufficiently clean, she turned toward the dwarf.

"Thank you... For all this. You didn't have to,"

She brushed a stray hair behind her ear and kissed the dwarf on the cheek softly. The movement hurt, but she made no indication of it.

"I had to. Believe me," he said quietly, after a moment.

Hawke leaned her good shoulder into him, allowing her head to rest against his neck. He put an arm tentatively around her hip, giving it a very gentle squeeze.

They finished the bath in silence, Varric closing his eyes and letting the steam cloud his senses. The water temperature cooled, and Hawke got out of the bath, grabbing thick towels for each of them. She draped the plush fabric delicately around his shoulders, grinning as he pulled it tightly around his face, taking in the scent. It reminded him of her.

He pulled the plush fabric away from his facet o see that she had wrapped herself up as best she could. Together they exited the bath, and he led her back to the bedroom where he stoked the fire to a gentle blaze.

Hawke's hair was still piled on top of her head, and Varric stopped her from letting it down.

“Wait. We still need to re-dress your shoulder.”

She rolled her eyes slightly, but did as she was bid, sitting still as he fetched the new poultices.

Gently he placed it over her wounds, stopping when she winced, and waiting until she told him to continue. It was a long, methodical process , ending in winding bandages around her shoulder slowly. Finally finished, Hawke turned toward the fireplace, sunning her chest in the warmth. Varric absentmindedly placed his hand on her bun, gently loosening it and allowed her hair to spill back down her neck.

They sat together on the edge of the bed in comfortable silence.

After a while, Hawke spoke.

“You aren’t going to go back to Lowtown tonight, are you?”

Varric smiled, looking into the fireplace.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	5. Don't Shoot the Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Arishok Fight & loss of Hawke's mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((my headcanon with Hawke and Varric is that Hawke knows Varric is committed to another, but doesn’t know who the mystery woman is. Varric doesn’t want to endanger Bianca, and thus hasn’t let her name slip for anything. Hell, Hawke things the crossbow was made by some rando inventor. In any case, Headcanon continues that Varric has told Hawke in the past that he and his lady love exchange letters and only meet once a year if that. soooo yeah. with that background information, i hope you all enjoy!))

_**Varric approached Hawke one night after the sun had set**_ , and asked her to take a walk with him. She was puzzled, but she obliged. After all, he seemed tense.

They exited into the streets of Hightown, and made their way toward Lowtown in silence, nothing but the sound of their feet against the tiled streets.

After a moment, Varric paused by the mouth of an alleyway, leaning against a rogue barrel, and sighed.

“Hawke… You’re not acting like yourself. I know we haven’t talked about things lately, but… I’m worried about you. Among other things.”

Hawke tensed, biting her lip. She didn’t know if she wanted to discuss things, particularly out in an alleyway in Lowtown, of all places. After all, she was Champion now, and “Champions” weren’t supposed to show weakness.

She shrugged off his comment, “I mean, I’m not sure what you mean… Maybe we could discuss this somewhere else? Maybe with a stiff drink first?”

“Hawke, as much as I love a stiff drink, and you know I do,” Varric said, gaze hardening as he spoke, “I think you’ve been delving a bit too deep recently. I just want to make sure we’re not losing our champion.”

he meant it lightheartedly but the title fell on her heart like a stone.

of course. the champion. a name like iron. cold. unfeeling. hollow. she didn’t feel like a champion. she felt like a fool who’d lost everything due to her own stupidity. she swallowed back the lump in her throat, and the bitter laugh on her tongue.

“That’s all I am now, isn’t it? Champion?”

Varric raised an eyebrow. Looked like he’d accidentally hit a nerve.

“Well, I mean I’m no longer a daughter or sister, so I guess champion’s as good a title as any.” She said bitterly, a hollow chuckle rumbling out of her.

Varric took a deep breath.

“Not that you’d believe me, but what happened to her wasn’t your fault,” he began.

Hawke’s fists balled up tightly, and she shook as she spoke.

“Don’t lie to me Varric– we knew, we knew what warning signs to look for! When she told me someone was courting her, I should have been more vigilant. I could have prevented all of this. My family is gone. Everyone I love is gone. My friends betray me when it suits them, and I’m starting to think I’d be better off alone!” She nearly shouted, her voice cracking as her eyes welled with tears.

“People have been giving things up for my sake my whole life. I’d been trying to make up for that. for what I am. And for what? They’re all gone Varric, and things would be different if not for me.”

Varric took a step towards Hawke, unsure of how to respond.

“Your friends haven’t betrayed you, not most of us. we’re still here Hawke, and we’re worried about you.” he tried.

Hawke leaned heavily against the alley wall.

“The only person left in our band of misfits with any honor is Aveline, and she still betrayed me for a chance to relive the past.” her words stung, and Varric was starting to get upset.

“Oh, so after all this time, you haven’t let that slip-up go either, huh?”

the words slipped out, muttered not quite under his breath. Hawke’s temper rose further.

“No, I haven’t forgotten, Varric! After everything, of course I haven’t forgotten– Why did you drag me out here tonight? I don’t think you dragged me out here to dredge up my feelings about my mother’s death and Isabela’s betrayal, did you? I was fine without talking about it!” her voice sounded as if it was pleading, begging for some sort of release.

Varric’s brow tensed. He didn’t want to discuss the real reason he called her out tonight. It was selfish, and would undoubtedly make her even more angry.

“Varric.”

Her voice was clipped with emotion.

“Its her… isn’t it?”

The words stung.

Varric closed his eyes, and a hand flew up to massage his temples. his silence was greeted by a bitter smirk from Hawke.

“so I’m just a distraction for you. great.” she huffed, her welling eyes beginning to release large tears.

“I’m going home Varric. I’m sorry you haven’t heard from Ms. Perfect yet, but I don’t have it in me to be your distraction tonight. I’m just… tired.”

She turned to leave.

“Hawke—” he reached out for her, but Hawke spun on him, venom in her gaze.

“Varric, do not push me right now, I don’t want–”

Varric grabbed for her wrist, his eyes pleading, “Hawke. please. You’re not just a distraction… You’re my best friend.”

Hawke scoffed. What a line.

“Best friend, huh. Wonder how quick you’d turn on me to see your masochistic dream come true.”

Hawke instantly regretted the words as they came out. Varric bristled. the alleyway reverberated hot loud tension.

“My What?”

Hawke drew a sharp breath.

“Nothing. I’m going home. Forget I said anything.”

Varric’s grip on her wrist tightened.

“Did you say,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “my masochistic dream come true?”

Hawke’s silence was damning. she continued to cry silently, her cheeks now burning and red. She pulled away from Varric as he dropped his hand to his side.

“You think I enjoy this? that I get off on the ‘tortured writer’ act? that my life is a makerdamned game? What Hawke, you don’t think i know i should just walk away? do you know how many maker be damned times I have tried? You know NOTHING about that part of my life, so don’t patronize me like you do!” his tone was icy and he grew silent.

“Varric,” Hawke cautioned, as his expression turning to incredulity.

“Why do you even care, Hawke? What, do you think that things would be better if I was with you? that you could offer me reprieve from my pain? What would you offer— constant running? never settl–”

Varric’s words were met with a swift slap to the face, echoing down the alleyway and into the dark.

Hawke’s tears continued to flow down her cheeks, but they were no longer tears of mourning and sorrow, they were now filled with rage. she was seething.

“Let me go home. I don’t need this.” the words were forced through gritted teeth.

the pain in his cheek brought him back to his senses, if only slightly. he realized that he’d overstepped his bounds, and that they’d both said things they regretted.

“Lets get out of here, Hawke. Let’s get that damned drink.”

 

———————-

 

they sat in uncomfortable silence beside each other at the bar, with Hawke shooting dirty looks in the direction of where Isabella used to stand. as they drank, they spoke more. apologies came begrudgingly at first, but they didn’t dare speak of Varric’s chastising of Hawke’s feelings. after all, it was an unspoken agreement they had– they didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings between them. things were complicated enough without putting words to it.

Even so, as the night drew on and the bar began its closing duties, Hawke found herself back in Varric’s room, sitting on his bed like old times.

“My palatial suite in the Hanged Man is your palatial suite, Hawke. Make yourself at home,” he grinned, getting out his private stock of Antivan wine and two glasses.

Hawke smiled, but it didn’t reach past her eyes, he noted. subconsciously his hand crept onto her shoulder, and he pulled her in close for a hug. she stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to take the gesture, but after a moment her guard subsided, and the walls came tumbling down. she openly wept into his shoulder. everything flooded out of her– all the pain and anger she had been harboring melted away, held in comforting arms.

For this moment, she didn’t care that Varric had a Mrs. Perfect somewhere. She didn’t care that they couldn’t be together. She didn’t care that Varric wouldn’t tell her why.

All that mattered were these moments when she knew she wasn’t completely alone


	6. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Varric's anniversary rolls around
> 
> this fic contains in-game dialogue triggered after their 6 year anniversary. please enjoy but be mindful that this fic is based off an in-game event~

_**Varric approached Hawke the minute**_ she entered the Hanged Man, wringing his hands nervously despite his usual comfort level in speaking with the mage. Hawke noticed his tense demeanor immediately, and invited him to sit down by the fireplace.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

He tried to laugh off her question.

“Hawke… this is awkward.”

Hawke scoffed, “You, at a loss for words? I should mark this day on my calendar.”

Varric let out a choked laugh, “Enjoy this while it lasts. It might never happen again.”

he ordered a drink from the barmaid, and when she brought it to him, he drained half in a brisk swig.

“Look,” he managed to choke out, “I just want to say, it has been an honor knowing you.”

Hawke looked curiously at the dwarf.

“Are you about to die? Am I? Why so serious all of the sudden?”

Varric looked slightly less nervous as he replied, “Don’t panic. I just needed to get that off my chest. You know, its six years today? Six years since I found you dragging your tail out of Bartrand’s office.”

Hawke lifted her glass in time with Varric’s own, in a celebratory cheers.

“Here’s to whatever comes next!”

Hawke smiled, taking a drink. her mind flashed over the past six years. a lot had happened. good and bad. Her smile faltered a bit as her memories of her family scattered around her for a moment, and Varric noticed. his hand found its way to her back, rubbing slightly, coaxing her back to the present. she looked down at him, thankfully. she put a hand on the back of his neck, thoughtfully, lingering just a moment too long. Varric noticed, and took another drink, looking away awkwardly.

they laughed, trying to put the discomfort of the moment behind them.

Hawke wondered how long it had been since they made their biggest mistake. four years? perhaps less. They hadn’t so much as mentioned it since then. the pit of her stomach ached at the thought. She remembered her thoughts that night, full of lust and the morning after being filled with uncomfortable silence and embarrassed glances. It took them a while to get back to a place where they could act like nothing had happened. she’d only managed to get back to that place by denying her feelings purchase, and having them all flood back now was causing stirring in her she didn’t want at the moment.

Hawke stood up and made her way to the washroom quickly, removing herself from the situation. upon reaching the bathroom, she found herself throwing cold water in her face in an attempt to calm down. She didn’t want to be thinking about this right now. She knew it was a mistake. it was always a mistake to go into those feelings. she knew they were no good. she knew they’d end in heartache. she didn’t want him to be next name on her list of loss. For Andraste’s sake, just a few days earlier her brother had been kidnapped by blood mages for simply being associated with her!

Varric knocked on the washroom door.

“Did I make things awkward?” he called from behind the closed door.

Hawke sighed quietly, “No, but Maker knows I did.”

Varric was quiet for a moment.

“I heard that.”

Hawke’s face reddened.

“Can I come in?” She could hear a sincere worry in Varric’s voice.

She gulped back the lump in her throat and opened the washroom door. Varric stood in the hallway, shifting his weight from foot to foot awkwardly.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have had you come here,” he sighed.

Hawke shook her head, “No, I was glad to be reminded. sometimes its important to reminisce on moments like these. We’re a great pair, you know.”

She caught Varric looking at her lip, and her hand found its way up to the place he was looking at. A scar graced the spot: light, white with age, but she remembered it well enough– a scar from the highwayman who’d caught her with his sword. Varric shot him immediately after, but Hawke had gone down hard, and was unconscious for a while. She had been on the ground in a field in a crumpled heap for several hours that night, according to Anders, who had healed her wounds.

Varric approached her in a way that seemed subconscious, and cupped her hand in his own, thumb tracing the scar.

“I made Anders swear not to say anything, but he wasn’t the only one who stayed with you when you went down that night. I held your head in my lap while he worked. That scar’s got to be around 4 years old now, too.”

His eyes were still locked on her lips, his thumb still tenderly nursing the scar.

Part of Hawke wanted to pull away, wanted to desperately remove herself from the situation, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She wanted to bend down, to make herself more accessible to the dwarf. The air was now thick with tension, and she strongly desired to lose herself in it.

After a moment or so more, the two broke away from each other, chuckling uncomfortably.

“Suppose we should let someone else use the washroom, eh.” Hawke said, tucking a piece of her bangs behind her ear, biting her lip in the spot that was now warm with the dwarf’s touch.

“Yeah. We don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea…” Varric chuckled his gravelly laugh.

Varrric exited the washroom first, followed tentatively by Hawke. The back of the bar hallway they now occupied was empty, save for the echoes of the patrons out front.

Hawke attempted to reign in her feelings, realizing that going into the washroom had only helped when Varric hadn’t been present. Being that he followed her, Hawke realized she was in a very precarious place. Her knees were weak at the thought of the way he’d been so tender just a moment ago. She knew if she was around him any longer, she wouldn’t be able to hold back.

“Ah, to hell with it.”

A broad hand balled itself up in the front of her blouse and pulled her down with such a force that Hawke nearly lost her balance. Her face was scraped by blonde stubble, and suddenly there was mouth on hers, kissing ravenously. Varric held her there, passionately, not daring to breathe. Hawke nearly collapsed in a heap when he finally pulled away. She steadied herself against the wall, her knees buckling slightly, staring incredulously at him.

“You! I– What was that?”

Varric looked back at her, unsure how to answer. his answer came as a chuckle.

“A mistake?”

Hawke’s hands pushed her bangs back in a wave of exasperation.

“Andraste’s ass you make things difficult.”

“Happy anniversary, Hawke.”

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream.

Instead, she took Varric’s chin between her hands and absentmindedly ran her thumb over his stubble, before bending into another deep kiss. Her tongue eased his lips open, seeking softly for him. She felt her insides quake. She cursed herself, repeating damning thoughts: this isn’t right. This is wrong. This won’t end well.

Her hands travelled into Varric’s hair, wrapping in his coat collar and one hand snaking its way down the front of his chest to tangle in his chest hair.

Varric looked around, suddenly uneasy, “Hawke?”

Hawke realized they were still in the hallway as a drunk patron rounded the corner, shuffling by as they jumped apart.

Varric made his way back to his room and Hawke followed, lingering on the threshold. Did she really want to fall into this again?

She knew the answer to the question. She just wished it would have been a bit more of a struggle to answer than it was.

Varric dropped himself into an armchair with a heavy thump. Hawke followed, and climbed into his lap, drawing her knees over the arm of the chair. He looked at her, bemused.

“What are you doing?”

She leaned back into him, feeling his breath brush her neck. Her eyes closed in a brief moment of bliss.

“Am i doing something I shouldn’t?” she purred, craning her neck to face him. They were close. She could now feel his breath on her face.

She saw what felt like a slow-motion movement of Varric leaning in for another kiss, but when she closed her eyes and braced to accept, it didn’t arrive. She felt him draw back at the last moment, and instead his arms enveloped her tenderly. He cradled her for a moment, rocking slightly and saying nothing.

Hawke knew he must be coming back to his usual senses, so she resigned herself to what she assumed would be the last bit of physical contact from him for another long while. She turned and leaned back into the crook of his neck, sighing softly.

“if this is a desire demon’s dream please don’t wake me up,” she groaned to herself.

She heard Varric chuckle softly.

“Come on Hawke, I’m great, but I’m not that great.”

 


	7. Caught between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Varric catch each other doing naughty things. smut ensues. NSFW! follows line of logic that Varric and Hawke are not an item due to Varric’s wanting to figure out what he wants first.

 

_**Varric arrived back at camp** _ ahead of schedule, stopping at his tent to deposit the supplies for their next meal. He looked around, surprised to see that the others hadn’t returned yet. Anders had said something about seeking some new drakestone deposits in the western hills, and Aveline had left to check in with her guardsmen, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to be gone for the day. Even so, Varric wondered where Hawke must have gotten off to.

Suddenly to his right, he heard a strangled sob. It seemed to come from a ways away, as the sound was muffled by the rushing water, but Varric swore he heard something nonetheless. Shouldering Bianca cautiously, he headed in the direction of the sound.

Getting closer, he heard labored breathing, and as he rounded the clearing, he was taken off guard by what he saw.

Nestled into a crooked tree’s root scape sat a nearly naked Hawke, hands desperately seeking herself. She trembled, breathing hard and biting back moans, neck straining back in effort.

Varric was torn whether or not to interrupt her. Seeing her like this caused him to stir himself, feeling a swelling he couldn’t ignore.

She moaned again, louder this time. The sound was pained, loaded with wanting.

“Varric, yes–” more heavy breathing, “Just like that! Don’t stop!”

Varric’s hands fell to his own member, massaging it passively. He closed his eyes, listening to her impassioned breath. He momentarily lost balance, and caught himself with a step back, cracking a twig as his foot fell.

Hawke stopped immediately, ragged breath caught in her throat, her eyes snapping open.

“Who’s there?” Hawke scrambled for her staff and something to cover herself with.

Varric decided it was best to come at least most of the way clean. He stepped forward, arms raised, only exposing his upper half. Hawke went scarlet in the face.

“Varric?!”

He couldn’t help but smirk down at her.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, a twinge of guilt coloring his voice.

“What are you doing here?” Hawke was still breathless, clamoring to get dressed again.

“No no, don’t get up,” Varric laughed, “I just heard screaming and thought there might be trouble. I can leave you alone, and you can finish up if you like. This actually gave me some great inspiration for Swords and Shields.”

“Haha, very funny. Having you know what I was– Wait, how long were you there for?”

Hawke’s eyes widened.

“Long enough…” his voice trailed off as he looked away, unable to make eye contact.

Hawke’s cheeks were burning, and she sat there in ashamed silence.

Varric chuckled.

“I gotta say Hawke, you painted quite the picture. But seriously, you stay here. I’m going back to camp.”

With that, he turned and walked away, giving Hawke a simple wave as she audibly protested. He laughed.

The image of Hawke, hot and bothered, naked and screaming his name burned in the back of his mind. his erection throbbed painfully. He drew his coat close to his sides, buckling it in front of him, and removed Bianca from his shoulder, carrying her awkwardly in front of him in both hands. He’d rather have Aveline or Anders think he was being over-cautious than sporting a throbbing erection while walking back toward camp, after all. Luckily he met neither of the other two companions, and managed to climb quickly and quietly into his tent.

He sat there in tense silence, trying to calm his senses. He grabbed some vellum and a quill, dipping into the ink and beginning to pen his inspiration.

he began to describe the scene in his mind:

Hawke’s soft, round breasts heaving as she moaned, her back arching into the tree. Her smooth skin juxtaposed against the tree’s rough rootscape.

The soft pink of her lips, and her most sensitive places–

Varric dropped the vellum and ink, the well splashing over the side of the crate he was using as a temporary bedside table. His hands found themselves loosening his pants, wriggling out of them quickly as he removed his duster and tunic, breath coming in hot, labored bursts. He leaned hard against his bedroll, now fully released and erect. Hawke’s voice burning in his mind as she called his name, he imagined placing his hands all over her as his hands travelled his own length; feeling her breasts, and his hands trailing down her belly, down between her thighs–

the flap of the tent opened.

Hawke’s head popped in, not registering what she was laying eyes on for a brief moment. As soon as she comprehended, her

hands clapped firmly over her mouth as she squeaked in shock.

Varric lay on the bedroll, mortified.

The two stayed in locked eye contact and oppressive silence for a moment, the air thick with sultry energy.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, a twinge of guilt coloring her voice.

Varric’s furrowed brow and tightened jaw cracked into a guilty grin.

“I want to hate you so much right now.”

Hawke giggled.

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to actually apologize for earlier… I know you need some time to… figure yourself out before we even think about doing anything… together, but it looks like I just made things about twenty times worse… so I’m gonna… go…”

Hawke spoke, but her words trailed off and it was infinitely obvious that she was becoming increasingly distracted by Varric’s body. Noticing this, he reached for his tunic from beside the bedroll and pulled it over his lap. It did nothing more than make him feel even more ridiculous.

Rather than leaving him to his shame, Hawke withdrew further into the tent, securing the flap down behind her. She removed her black cloak and placed it over the spilled ink, mopping up the mess with one hand, while not moving her gaze from Varric.

“I know we’re not together, but… You can’t deny there’s still attraction?” she tried, after a moment of fumbling with her thoughts.

“Well, I hadn’t thought about it for a while, until I stumbled onto you screaming my name into that tree,” Varric said,

almost with a trace of bitterness.

“So that was what was driving… this?” Hawke motioned in his direction.

“Like I said before Hawke, you painted quite the picture,” He sighed.

The two looked away from each other, the awkward silence filling the tent once again.

After a while, Varric chuckled.

“Did you end up finishing?”

Hawke laughed, “No, I couldn’t stand the thought of you knowing you were my… material. Did you?”

Varric shook his head, “Had just started getting good when you interrupted. Though to be fair, I also kind of started when I found you. Damn twig interrupted both of us.”

Hawke swung to smack Varric’s shoulder playfully, but miscalculated and ended up on her knees beside the dwarf.

She wet her lips, eyes following his jawline to his lips in turn.

“Varric?”

“Yeah Hawke?”

She leaned in, cheek grazing the dwarf’s stubble.

Hawke felt Varric hesitate, and pulled back instinctively, his stubble leaving her chin red and rugged.

He cursed his own indecisiveness.

Why was it so hard for him to give into passion like this? It was stupid. He was forever waiting for the woman who left him at the altar. the woman who keeps him waiting with baited breath over letters, sent infrequently at that. Hawke was always there. Always only a moment away, so ready and dwilling to jump on any bandwagon and bad idea. She loved him. He knew that. She was always there for him, and him alone.

His hesitation ceased. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her back to him, kissing her hungrily. She accepted fully, moaning into his mouth when he nipped at her lips.

She sighed heavily as their kiss broke apart, and she laid down beside him, her hand creeping onto his chest.

They lay together in silence for a moment, Until Varric kissed Hawke again, his lips trailing down her chin, to her neck, then her collar bone. He fumbled, unbuttoning her shirt before sneaking down her chest to her breats. She let out a strangled gasp as he ran the tip of his tongue over her nipple, feeling her body shudder.

“So was this what you had in mind?” He asked when taking a quick break to tweak her other breast with his hand.

Hawke bit her lip, moaning.

“N-not quite,”

Varric raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Another trace of his tongue, done in time with his hand movement. Another gasp from Hawke, accompanied by a full body shudder.

“Do tell.”

Hawke hesitated, “I don’t think I can say it… Not out loud at least.”

Varric paused, leaning partially upright on his elbow beside her.

“Well then… We’ll just have to experiment.”

Hawke’s cheeks burned.

“What does it matter?” She stammered.

“You don’t think I’ve got fantasies of my own I’d like to act out?” Varric smirked.

He motioned for Hawke to move over to the bedside crate. Tentatively, she obeyed. As she sat down on it, he drew her into another deep kiss, his tongue pressing her lips apart and seeking hers. She obliged, their tongues caressing and entwining. Varric pulled away and moved to his knees, his chin falling to her mid thighs. he loosened her pants and small clothes, and helped her wiggle out of them, Hawke giggling at the effort. He spread her thighs apart gently, his fingers tracing gingerly up her legs, until his thumbs caressed her opening, slowly. She shuddered, her breath becoming hot and heavy.

“This is one, for example. Open wider,”

His voice was tender, but commanding.

She obliged, spreading her legs further and placing her hands tentatively on her knees.

Varric’s wide chin traced her inner thigh first, his tongue dancing circles up and down, his breath alternating between hot and cold as he moved. Finally he rested on her clit, breathing hard, with a wicked look in his eye.

His hands locked around her thighs as he began, lapping hard and firm around her clit, chuckling as she tried to thrash in reply.

“Not so rough–” she gasped, her thighs clamping around his ears. He patted her legs, letting her know to loosen up, but he didn’t slow. She did so, and wrapped her fingers in his hair as he continued to pleasure her.

Her hips bucked in reply as he modified his speed and pattern, and slowly let his hands trail to her opening, giving himself better access as his tongue caressed her.

Suddenly Hawke saw his shoulders tense. His head snapped away from her and he reached instinctively for Bianca, his other hand flying up to cover Hawke’s mouth.

A moment later, they heard a voice outside the tent.

“Varric, are you in there?”

Anders had returned to camp.

Varric set Bianca back down, unable to hold back a loud chuckle.

“Yes, I’m here Blondie. Don’t come in though… I’m working on some delicate–” Hawke ran her tongue over his index finger playfully, “things that I’d rather not have to restart.”

Anders chuckled, “Getting some alone time, are we? Well I won’t interrupt. Have you seen Hawke?”

Varric didn’t bother correcting Anders. His eyes shifted in her direction. His hand slipped off her mouth, but she slid to her knees as it fell, her hands guiding their way to his cock, an equally wicked smile dancing across her face.

“Last I saw Hawke,” Varric was biting his knuckle, struggling to keep composure, “She was out in the clearing by the brook, about a half hour ago. Maybe check there?”

He struggled to keep his voice even.

Anders agreed from outside, “Will do. Try to keep it quiet though, alright? Just in case she comes back. That’d be awkward.”

“You have no idea,” he managed to choke out.

Hawke paused to listen for Anders’ foot falls to fade off into the distance before she gave Varric a soft shove, causing him to take his turn sitting on the crate. She ran her tongue up his thigh, before grasping his cock firmly at the base. She slid her fingers up it slowly, relishing in the movement his hips answered with.

“Well, there’s ONE of my fantasies,” she grinned.

“Well aren’t you naughty,” Varric couldn’t help but laugh, his hips spasming as she continued to pump his shaft. Hawke guided him into her mouth, pulling her hand back for a brief moment. Varric wrapped his fingers in her hair, guiding her up and down to his rhythm. She obliged, letting him take the lead for a moment. Varric’s breathing tempo increased, coming now in rugged, strangled gasps.

He grew closer and closer to the edge, his vision blurring, thoughts draining from his mind.

he wanted to come. he needed release, but only at her command. He needed her to bring him over the edge.

Hawke’s hand joined her mouth again, caressing him, rubbing gently, pumping in time, and she took control from him again.

She felt him getting close, as he began muttering a warning. She prepared herself to accept his gift as he crashed over the edge. She took it in stride, allowing him to release with a pleasured moan, hissed through his gritted teeth. She waited until he was finished, then emptied the contents of her mouth into the corner of her cloak.

“You get to wash this later,” she smirked, looking at him with a triumphant grin.

“Oh, poor me. I get a reminder that you sucked my dick. What a shame.”

Varric peeled himself off the crate and collapsed back on the bedroll for a moment of recovery. He knew Hawke wasn’t quite finished with him yet, but he also knew she would be graceful about giving him some time. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling her ass into his lap, as his fingers again fell to her most sensitive spot.

Slowly, methodically he teased her, feeling her tense up and press her ass against him, grinding in time with his motion.

He relished in the movement, and Hawke noted as she craned her neck to look at him, a rather smug smile appear on his lips each time she forced herself against him.

His voice came as a barely audible whisper, “You like that Hawke?”

She nodded, trying to contain her voice.

His fingers continued to massage her softly, eliciting a building moan of his name. He smirked, placing a kiss on her spine softly.

“Have I ever told you I love it when you say my name?”

Hawke smiled, pressing harder against him. Varric continued stroking her with one hand, while the other moved a bit lower. Varric inserted his index finger between the lips of her most precious place, slowly pumping into her. He was happy to hear a muffled whimper as Hawke groped for the pillow of his bedroll and covered her face to scream into it.

She was so wet.

After a few more minutes of agonizing silence, he felt himself recovering, his erection throbbing against Hawke’s ass.

She moved the pillow away from her face just enough to note between uttered gasps, “Well someone’s excited,” with a slight laugh.

Varric pumped harder with his hand for a moment longer, before rolling Hawke onto her back and lifting her knees over his shoulders for a brief moment. He lapped at her just long enough to elicit a cry in surprise, and he let her back down. He made a face of mock disapproval at the noise while readying himself to enter her.

He could tell by the look on her face that she must be fairly close. Fuck, he wanted to make her come. He wanted it to be entirely his fault.

He placed his hands on her hips tenderly.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, biting her lip in expectation.

Varric leaned heavily into her as he plunged, feeling her twitch and moan under the effort. He lifted her hips up as he moved, watching her wriggle in delight. After a moment they readjusted, Varric on top and Hawke under him, curling her toes in an effort not to be heard all around camp.

Varric’s hands traced up Hawke’s hips to rest on her chest, tweaking her nipples softly as he moved inside her. He noted her clenching him in reply, a grin sneaking onto his face.

Hawke slid her hands up to meet his. As good as it felt, there was one feeling she wanted more.

She took his hands and entwined their fingers. They continued to fuck like this for a few moments, until Hawke gave Varric a slight shove. He fell to his back, his cock pulled roughly rom her, causing them both to moan.

Hawke climbed on top of Varric and mounted him in one go. She positioned herself so that every time he pumped, he struck her g spot, causing her to shiver in delight. She couldn’t hold her voice any longer. She didn’t care anymore.

“Varric! Yes! Please, oh Maker yes!”

Varric’s hands were clamped around her hips, pumping feverishly into her. He was so close, he wanted to make her come before he did.

“Hawke, I want you to come for me.”

The sentence sounded so awkward to the dwarf, but it didn’t matter.

Hawke began to touch herself as he slammed up into her. He felt her body quake in reply. It was a matter of moments before her breath was quick and jilted, as she screamed his name.

“Varric, I’m so close!”

He grinned widely, and took that as the cue to catch up. He came to the edge with her and they fell together. Hawke’s hands found their way to his as they rolled off one another, breathing heavy and heaving with post orgasm spasms.

They laughed as they caught their breath.

This was a stupid thing to do. Half of Thedas must have heard them, let alone Aveline and Anders. There was no way to move out of the tent without it being awkward.

Hawke was the first to move, turning to face him.

“Since this was probably another one time thing, I’ll have you know I will be milking it for all its worth,” she pouted, placing a kiss on Varric’s jawline. He caught her chin in his fingers, guiding her lips to his in reply.

“Hawke, you know I’m terrible at commitment. Lets just enjoy this for what it is. Sex with an ‘a-little-more-than-friends’ friend. How does that sound?”

Hawke turned the phrase over in her mind.

“I suppose I’ll have to take it,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around the dwarf’s shoulders.

They lay together, entwined and drifting off for a long while. They fell into a tender sleep, and awoke after night had fallen on the camp.

Varric arose first, drawing the blanket of his bedroll over Hawke’s still naked form. He took the supplies from his earlier trip and began to prepare dinner, poking the fire outside.

Anders joined him, sitting crosslegged beside the fire, looking Varric up and down.

“I hope you had fun, at least.”

Varric smirked, giving Anders a wink.

“What Blondie, are you jealous?”

“I’d be jealous if what you had was more than a casual fling,” Anders comment came out icier than he had intended. Varric didn’t want to seem hurt by it, and simply continued cutting the carrots for the stew quietly.

“If it was more than a casual fling, we’d all be in deep trouble.”

his voice was just slightly tinged with sadness as he glanced back at his tent.

 

 


	8. Desires are a Hell of a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A desire demon has Hawke in its clutches, and Varric gets a little more than he bargained for when he tries to pull Hawke out of it.

 

_**Varric watched on in horror as** _ Hawke sat subdued at the feet of a particularly swarthy desire demon. She seemed dazed, a hazy-eyed smile on her face.

“You can’t pull her out of this Varric. She’s mine now. And we’re having such a good time,” the desire demon’s voice came out rich and thick. Their hand grazed Hawke’s chin, lifting it slightly, and turning it towards him, daring him to take aim with Bianca, who was already loaded and pointed at them.

“Varric, who’s at the door?”

The question sent a shock wave through him. Hawke continued to look at the demon, and the demon answered softly, “Just Bartrand. He wants to plan another expedition. I don’t know Hawke, what should I do?”

Hawke nearly pouted, “Bartrand? He’s an ass! Don’t let him take you away. Not now that we’re finally together,”

Varric looked at the desire demon, disgusted.

He looked past them to Hawke, trying to reach her, and get her to wake up, “Hawke? Its me. I need you to stand up. You need to come with me right now.”

Hawke’s eyes sharpened for a brief moment before the glazed look returned.

“Varric? You’re not making any sense. We’re home now. We don’t need to go anywhere. Here, I poured you your favorite.”

She motioned at nothing. Varric looked on at the demon, a snarl escaping his lips.

The demon smiled, “I wonder if you might like to see what she sees? You would be happy here too, I’d wager.”

Varric watched as the room around them warped and spun, turning into Hawke’s cold stone estate.

Varric saw the demon-him seated at the writing desk with a cup of tea and a quill in one hand, and Hawke resting a hand gingerly on his shoulder. She was wearing nothing but her small clothes and his red tunic, her chest exposed slightly to the chill morning air.

She leaned over and nipped at his ear when he put the quill down, reaching for the cup.

“Hawke, what are you doing?” the demon asked in his voice.

Hawke smiled, positively glowing.

“I’ve never been so happy before,” she gushed, directing his chin up to meet hers in a small kiss. She sat down beside him, so her forehead was touching his, eyes closed blissfully.

“I can’t believe we ended up together… Its almost too good to be true,” She continued.

Varric hoped this thought would be enough to pull her out of this fantasy, but alas. She stood up, wrapping her arms around him softly.

“Even so, I’m so happy that you’re mine, Varric. You’re all I ever wanted in the end.”

Varric felt a wave of painful guilt wash over him.

Demon Varric sighed up into Hawke, “As you are to me,” and they kissed tenderly.

Varric couldn’t stand it any longer. Bianca creaked slightly as he lifted her, putting the demon squarely in her sight.

“You will die, and I’m going to enjoy this.”

The arrow released with a clunk, and buried itself deeply into the demon’s back. It groaned painfully in his voice, sending an involuntary shudder down his spine.

Hawke’s eyes grew wide with horror and a wild howl of anguish escaped her lips as the demon collapsed in her arms.

“Varric, no…” it came out as a whisper, choked with tears.

Blood began to soak the floor as Hawke cradled the demon close to her chest.

“Who are you,” she growled, staring Varric straight in the face, unflinching, “And what have you done?”

Varric began to answer when a crackle of lightning struck just to his left, singing his duster at the edge.

He struggled to aim Bianca, lifting her half-heartedly in Hawke’s direction.

“Hawke,” he choked, “Its me. Its Varric. Don’t you recognize me?”

Hawke stared hard at him, and the vision faded for Varric, showing the demon grinning over her shoulder. In its rich, thick voice it spoke to Hawke, reminding her that her love lay dying in her arms.

A sob wracked her body, and she threw up her hand. An oppressive force knocked Varric prone.

Tears streamed down her face as she pulled herself to her feet.

“How dare you say his name. You won’t live long enough to say it again. I promise you.”

Her hands buzzed with electricity, crackling softly as she took aim. Varric rolled away as the bolt hissed just over his head, and he took aim with Bianca again. He managed this time to strike the demon squarely in the stomach, before sending three more bolts into its heart. It fell with a heavy thump, and while it lay there bleeding, it proclaimed that this figure was Bartrand, out to finish the job. That Hawke needed to kill this man, to avenge her lover’s death.

Hawke was shaking visibly now, covered in sweat and demon’s blood.

“Bartrand?” She seemed confused.

“You’re supposed to be at the sanitarium… The idol, it made you not think straight. Bartrand, you killed your brother. Why did you kill him?!”

Her voice came out as an anguished sob.

“Hawke, please wake up. Its me,” Varric was begging, his voice coming out in a soft plea.

Hawke’s aim didn’t falter, and she sent another press of force down upon him. Varric took aim at Hawke, trying for a nonlethal place to bring her down. He involuntarily looked away as he pulled Bianca’s trigger.

He heard the bolt connect with Hawke’s shoulder. She screamed, pain erupting from her arm. She dropped her staff, the force pinning Varric interrupted.

Varric bolted to her side as Hawke fell to her knees, clutching her shoulder. she bit back another scream as Varric’s arms enveloped her, cradling her head into his chest. he swallowed back the lump in his throat, holding her chin towards him, begging her to focus.

“Hawke. Hawke please. Please wake up. Look at me. Look at me, please. Its me. Its Varric. Please wake up.”

Hawke’s blood soaked through to Varric’s skin. He felt the warmth of her body against him, and noted that her eyesight was starting to focus. Looking closer he realized the bolt had passed through her shoulder, leaving a deep gouge, but hadn’t stayed embedded in her arm. This was one of the few times he was glad his aim had faltered enough to not mortally wound someone.

“Hawke.”

His voice cracked.

He gently laid her down into his lap, cradling her head and pushing her hair away from her face. Hawke’s eyelids fluttered slightly, and her pupils focused on his face.

“Varric…” her voice came out as a whisper.

Varric cupped her face in his hand. She winced at the movement. Varric put his hand near the wound on her shoulder, looking into her eyes.

“Hawke, I’m here, okay? I’m sorry …”

He examined her shoulder, and carefully pulled the sleeve off her shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound, making a makeshift tourniquet. he squeezed her hand tightly when she winced again at his touch.

“Varric, what happened? I thought I saw… I mean, I don’t know what I saw–” Hawke’s face flushed as she realized what the desire demon had put in her head.

Varric urged her to be quiet.

“I don’t know if now is the best time to talk about what we both saw there,” he said, eyes traveling to the body of the demon, which he turned away from in disgust.

“Can you move?”

Hawke nodded shakily. Varric helped her to a sitting position, but she leaned heavily on him as they rose. He caught the smell of a fresh wave of blood and sweat.

“Hawke, I’m so sorry.”

Varric’s voice came out resolute like stone, but Hawke felt him tremble slightly under her touch. He helped her to her feet, but as she stood up, her legs nearly gave out beneath her. Varric caught her and eased her back to her knees, allowing her to lean heavily against him once again.

“Maybe I should get Anders,” he moved to stand, but Hawke held him still.

“Please don’t leave me alone, Varric.”

Varric bit his lip uncomfortably, “Hawke, you need a healer.”

Hawke chuckled, “I AM a healer. Well, kind of.”

“Please, Hawke…” Varric was worried.

Hawke protested, “Varric, I have a potion in my pack, if you get it for me I can mend it myself.”

Varric nodded. He reached over to the pack beside her and placed it beside her. Keeping her still, he fished its contents out, and handed the potion to her.

Gratefully she tipped its contents down her throat, coughing as a few droplets fell from her lips and onto his arm, currently wrapped snugly around her waist as a support. He felt the tingle of Lyrium. Hawke raised her hand and placed it on the exit wound, breath hissing from her lips as the blue glow left her fingertips. the blood flow staunched, and Hawke bit back another squeal of pain as she felt flesh knit back to flesh.

After a few moments of tense silence, she groaned, “How about you never shoot me again. How does that sound?”

Varric laughed, “Only if you promise to wear my shirt like that for me sometime.”

“VARRIC!” Hawke glowered, struggling trying to get out of his grasp for a moment. Varric chuckled, not releasing his grip.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”


	9. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself.
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the Herald of Andraste is declared the Inquisitor. Hawke's arrival at Skyhold.

**Hawke arrived at Skyhold as quietly as she could manage.** Hood pulled tight over her loose hair, she looked down as her horse-drawn cart trudged slowly over the drawbridge, crossing the portcullis and hitting the dirt floor of Skyhold, where it ground to a halt.

She jumped off the back of the cart, paying the driver with a few gold coins and giving him a solemn nod, but not breathing a word.

The fewer who knew she was here, the better. She just needed to meet the Herald, then move on to Crestwood. Alistair’s last letter had been laden with complaints, but she knew underneath that he was feeling the pressure of Warden Commander  Clarel. Even now, with their lack of communication, it was possible he’d been intercepted– particularly if the residents of Crestwood realized their bandit population had been thinned significantly in Alistair’s attempt to find cover.

She looked nervously around– she’d finally made it, but where should she go from here?

“Can I help you?”

The Antivan accent threw Hawke off guard as she spun around to see the Inquisition’s diplomat looking quizzically at her.

“You look lost, my friend… Are you looking for something in particular?” Josephine tried again, sweetly. She shifted from one foot to the other, clutching her clipboard to her chest just slightly as Hawke eyed her up and down.

“Sorry… I’m actually looking for the Herald of Andraste? And if not him, then… Varric Tethras?” Hawke tried to be casual, but something in Josephine’s eyes sparked at the mention of her dwarven companion.

“Oh… well, unfortunately at the moment the Herald isn’t quite back from a scouting mission in the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe. He’s expected back tomorrow evening, though. Master Tethras is taking the next couple of hours to debrief Leliana’s spies as a precautionary measure… After Haven, its not surprising they’d want a second opinion.” Josephine sighed despite herself, “I can send him over once he’s done, if you’d prefer?”

Hawke sighed.

“Any chance you could show me to his private quarters? I’d actually like a rest after the trip I’ve had…”

It came off a bit more personal than she’d liked. Josephine chuckled under her breath.

“Under most circumstances I’d have to say no, but in this case you seem like you need it. Who should I tell him has arrived?”

Hawke considered for a moment.

“Just tell him a little bird flew in to see him.”

Josephine nodded, a smile breaking across her lips.

“Most certainly. Right this way.”

————————-

She was so tired of running. She wanted to see a familiar face. When Josephine let her into Varric’s quarters, she could tell immediately he hadn’t been there long. To Josephine’s dismay she seemed almost disappointed, until she found a balled up old tunic on his floor, just shy of the bin. Hawke chuckled to herself, scooping up the clothing and folding it in her hands, quietly.

How long had it been since she’d seen  him? How long had she been on the run from Kirkwall’s templars, and their unyielding charge against her and her companions? Her heart ached for Aveline and Carver, whom it seemed recieved few of her letters. The only ones to keep true and consistant contact with her in this time were Alistair and Varric. And here she was, meeting up with one while trying to rescue the other.

Her stream of thoughts was interrupted by a small cough from Josephine that brought Hawke back to the present.

“I’m sure Cullen will want to stop by, just to be introduced, as will Leliana… We will be discrete, I assure you, but… They’ll want to know who is coming and going nonetheless.” She explained, turning to leave.

Hawke nodded, though she knew Josephine hadn’t looked back for confirmation. She knew the importance of keeping tabs on all who entered, especially when your army just took the hit of a lifetime from an ancient evil. She figured if Leliana was anything like the spymaster Varric had told her about, then it was likely she already knew exactly who was in the dwarf’s quarters.

But still… the fact that Corypheus remained… It shook Hawke to the core. Varric told her it was the truth, and she believed him, yet… He was dead when they’d left the temple. Her father died to keep him contained, and she’d put her friends and family in danger just trying to keep him from getting out. She thought she’d succeeded, but… Apparently not.

Hawke sank into the plush comforter of the bed, drawing it up over her shoulders as she pulled her knees close to her chest. She sat in silence, waiting.

A knock on the door caused her to startle just slightly. Her heart was in her throat as she simply stated, “come in!”

 It couldn’t be Varric. He wouldn’t knock on his own quarters’ door. Even if he knew someone was waiting for him, it wasn’t his style.

A familiar mop of curls ducked through the door frame, as Commander Cullen tentatively opened the door. Hawke grinned at her old acquaintance, nodding in his direction.

“Hawke! I thought it might be you!” Cullen smiled, closing the gap between them and clasping her arm firmly in a greeting.

“Cullen! Good to see you again!” Hawke replied.

“The Herald isn’t here right now, though I’m sure you’ve been briefed on that… What are you doing here?”

Hawke looked at Cullen, mystified that he may not know her connection to all of this.

“If you want to kill Corypheus, I’m apparently the expert to talk to…” she sighed, “Though apparently I didn’t finish the job last time.”

“Well, knowing they’ve got you on the case is honestly the most comforting thing about this,” Cullen said with a slight chuckle, “If you can straighten things out in Kirkwall, you may be able to straighten things out here. It’s good to see you, Hawke.”

“Not sure if I’d call what happened in Kirkwall ‘straightening things out’,"She chuckled, "but its good to see you too, Cullen. I hope you’re doing well.”

He turned to leave, but with his hand on the door frame he stopped, turning on his heel to look at her solemnly.

“I…. I stopped taking lyrium… by the way. I figured you should know.”

Hawke’s breath caught in her throat. Stopping lyrium was a hell of a feat for anyone, Cullen included.

“I.. I don’t know what to say. Congratulations, I suppose… That’s quite a task.”

“I had to do it,” Cullen’s voice was determined, rough against the midafternoon sunlight, “ I couldn’t take it any longer. The Mages– You… You didn’t deserve the treatment you recieved. By me or any other templars. After Meredith, I couldn’t take it any more. I want to apologize. For everything.”

Hawke knew she couldn’t dissuade the former templar from apologizing, so she decided to accept in the next best way she knew how. She pulled herself off the bed and enveloped Cullen lightly in a hug, following with a firm pat on the back.

“Thank you Cullen. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll just be a raven away.”

Cullen looked confused as she released him.

“You’re not staying?”

Hawke smiled at him sadly.

“No, Cullen… I have a friend in the Wardens I need to visit after I consult with the Herald. I’m afraid Skyhold is just a pit-stop at the moment. But I’m sure I’ll be back,”

She looked back at the crumpled tunic on the corner of the bed.

“I’ve got some incentive to, anyway.”

Cullen looked slightly confused, but smiled in response. With a wave, he turned to go.

“You’re welcome back anytime, Hawke. Just give us a warning first.”

—————————————-

Warm arms enveloped Hawke as she awoke, dazed and confused.

Behind her a gravelly voice chuckled, “A little bird, huh?”

“You of all people know I leave the bullshitting to those who are naturally good at it,” she sighed, pressing her burning ears further into the pillow.

His laugh was music in her ears. As she awoke, her sense sharpened. She could feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck, and the sensation of his body pressed tightly against her back. His thick forearms were wrapped around her waist. She reveled in the sensation for just a moment.

“Feels like home,” she caught herself breathing the words before she could stop it.

“Good to be home,” he answered, a smile showing in his voice.

They lay together in silence as their breathing slowed, matching in pace. After a moment, Hawke sighed, sitting upright.

“As much as I adore this,” she groaned, “And believe me, Varric, I do… I can’t stay long. I last heard from Alistair about three weeks ago. I’m starting to get anxious.”

Varric nodded, knowingly.

“That doesn’t sound much like our boisterous warden friend. You think he could have been–”

“Intercepted? Possibly, though he’s always been careful when he needed to be. But that’s why its important that I go, Varric… When is the Herald expected back?”

Varric sighed, pulling himself onto one elbow.

“Tomorrow evening, if the caravan drags. Could be as early as tomorrow morning. They’re going to hold a ceremony when he returns though… They’re naming him the head of the Inquisition. Sort of giving the brains of the operation a proper title, I suppose.”

Hawke eyed Varric. He seemed invested in this Inquisition. She loved that he threw himself into it, she just hoped he was doing so for the right reasons.

“Varric, its good to see you…”

Varric smiled, “Good to see you too, Hawke. I hate only having words to live off of.”

“Really? I’d think by now you’d be used to it.”

“haha, very funny,” Varric rolled his eyes, “say what you want to, but I’m saying I missed you too.”

Hawke couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“So… Nothing to do now, then, but wait…” she let the words trail from her lips, hoping they had a certain effect on the dwarf. His lips twitched a slight smirk in reply.

“Ah but the little bird has a one track mind…”

Hawke rolled her eyes.

“We can dance around the subject all night, if that’s what you really want, Varric, but I know you’re interested,” she said with a smirk, hand sliding down her back to rest on the undeniable bulge now pressed against her ass.


	10. Late Night Binge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself.
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interaction between Alistair, Hawke & Varric. 
> 
> implied Dorian x Inquisitor and Alistair x Warden

_**Her mother’s voice– cutting, clipped and curt.**_ Memories swam by.

“Don’t speak to me of grief! This is your fault! How could you let her charge off like that?”

Hawke’s mother’s mangled body swam into view. Hawke tried to back away, but craned her neck to find herself against a hard cold wall.

“My poor Bethany…” the corpse moaned, dragging its stitched fingers down her cheeks. Blood trailed behind the nails.

“You left all of us to die. Its your fault…”

the moan turned into a gut-wrenching shriek.

“ITS YOUR FAULT!”

Hawke found herself gasping for air, everything moving slowly. She turned away from her mother’s shambling corpse,

slamming her fists against the cold damp wall behind her.

“Mother, no!” she sobbed. Hawke begged and screamed, but to no avail. Her mother’s hands closed around her neck, and she was shaken awake.

…

“Hawke? Hawke!”

…

She blinked slowly as her friend Alistair’s face swam into view, concern etched into his features. As Hawke sat up, the warden coughed, deliberately looking away from her. She groggily noticed a moment later that her Inquisition issued nightclothes were clinging to her sweatsoaked form, if just barely. Alistair continued to kindly avert his gaze as she adjusted her blankets accordingly. They were staying in the Inquisition soldier barracks, much to Josephine, the Inquisitor, and Varric’s chagrin. Alistair had insisted however, stating it was better for him to be treated like a common soldier. This was his wish, and Hawke knew now that with him experiencing the Calling it was better to have someone he trusted around to try and talk him down, in case he tried to leave alone. As much as she and the others trusted Alistair, they knew better than that. After all, he was a warden, and they’d seen what Corypheus could do with manipulation. She snapped back to reality as he prompted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Hawke, are you all right? You were screaming in your sleep.”

She sighed, “I have some …. recurring nightmares from time to time. They’re about my mother. She was killed by a bloodmage in Kirkwall.”

Alistair’s jaw clenched, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know my mother, but losing anyone close is hard.”

Hawke laughed dryly, “Oh you have no idea. I lost her after my little sister threw herself at an Ogre on our way out of Lothering, and, oh, remember when you met Carver? It was after the deep roads, too. So, she blamed me for losing both of them. Which granted, she was right to, but nonetheless… I’m the biggest disappointment, and I’m reminded of that in my sleep.”

Alistair got to his feet and offered Hawke the robe draped over his shoulders. She took it, looking quizically up at him.

“Don’t take the gesture for anything more than chivalry,” he grinned, “But you look like you need a walk and a stiff drink. Your horrible nightmare woke me from my horrible nightmare, so surprise, we get to be drinking buddies.”

She smiled, beginning to put the robe on.

Alistair turned away, allowing Hawke to cover herself and preserve what remained of her modesty. After finishing, she placed a hand on his shoulder, signifying she was ready, and off they walked, quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping soldiers. Many others had heard their night terrors no doubt, but were too kind or intimidated, to say anything. For all Hawke knew, they may have been thankful that the two had blundered out of the barracks for the time being.

The night air was cool and crisp up in the mountains, and Hawke cursed herself for not getting fully dressed. She kept only minor provisions near the barracks after all, as an excuse to visit her dwarven companion for supplies. She stopped Alistair for a brief moment, explaining, “Its too cold to walk to the tavern like this… Let me take a quick detour.”

he nodded, “Mind if I come too?”

Hawke considered for a moment. Finally, she sighed, “Can’t do any harm. You are our friend after all.”

“You don’t have to sound so defeated over it, Champion,” He grumbled, a smirk breaking on his lips.

Hawke grimaced, “Please never call me that again… You don’t call your love ‘Hero of Ferelden’, do you?”

He blushed at that.

“Fair enough.”

And off they trekked toward the dwarf’s quarters.

——

They found Varric dozing on a pile of loose vellum, a quill perched precariously behind one ear, a drop of ink threatening to dribble down his cheek. Hawke had opened the door as quietly as she could, and as a result the dwarf barely stirred. 

Hawke instructed Alistair toward a stone-hewn armchair beside Varric as she snuck around the corner. With a chuckle, Alistair shook the dwarf’s shoulder gently.

“How you manage to be both a rogue and a spymaster with all this sleeping, I’ll never know,” he grinned, watching Varric twitch one eye open lazily.

“Damn, I expected you to be someone else,” He groaned, closing his eyes again groggily.

“She’s in your closet, to be fair. Grabbing some more…. modest clothing, I hope,” Alistair laughed.

“What? Afraid Hawke might catch your eye?” Varric seemed more awake now, casting a glance curiously over the Warden after that last comment.

Alistair chuckled in reply, “Oh no, I’ve already had my eyes caught and tied, thank you. My type is a bit… different than her.”

“A bit more legendary, too, if you ask me,” Varric said, coming off a bit more gruff than he intended. Alistair didn’t seem fazed, however.

“A bit too legendary for me too, nowadays. I do miss her,” he sighed, “In any case. We’re just making a quick stop here, so we can get a drink or two before trying to sleep again… Hawke’s screams woke me up, you see.”

Varric’s gaze turned to stone in an instant, and he cast the Warden a worried glance.

“What happened?”

There was warning in his tone, and a caution the Warden didn’t like.

“She said she had a recurring nightmare, about her mother,” he confessed.

Varric sighed, his forefinger and thumb flying to the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Maker’s breath, I thought she’d gotten past them…”

Alistair grimaced, “apparently not.”

Varric glanced around to make sure Hawke wasn’t within hearing distance. He motioned for Alistair to bend forward, so he could make sure he understood.

“Alistair, I know Hawke may have told you some things about her life with a hint of sarcasm, or playing things off, but she’s had it rough. Her mother wasn’t just murdered, she was… cut up and put back together. with parts of other women to create the image of some blood mage’s dream girl. We killed the mage, but not before Hawke had to see her mother’s mangled corpse walk a few steps to die in her arms. She… She squarely blames herself for it, since she wasn’t able to stop it from happening. We were investigating some murders of other women, hacked up bodies with similar stories, and we didn’t put the pieces together in time… Her mother also had a habit of blaming the fate of her siblings on her as well.. All of this has weighed on Hawke a lot.”

Alistair looked taken aback.

“Thats horrifying!”

“No shit,” Varric breathed, “I just… thought I’d give you some perspective. When she says she is having a recurring nightmare about her mother, it may be more… graphic than you were previously imagining. Thank you for waking her up when you did. It was good instinct to get her out of there.”

“What are you two conspiring about?”

The two men flinched as Hawke rounded the corner, eyeing them both suspiciously. She was now dressed considerably warmer, with a thick blue tunic pulled close around her. She marched up to Varric and ruffled his hair softly.

“Had you just gotten to sleep?” she asked, unable to suppress a grin.

He nodded, “I was actually kicked out of the bar for the night. Our Inquisitive friend needed to convince some of our diplomatic visitors about something pertaining to the next part of the mission… He had both Josie and I on damage control. I came back up here to do some light writing, but… looks like I passed out for a bit. I’m back up and sober now though.”

Hawke sighed, “So Cabot is finished for the night, then?”

Varric nodded.

“However…. the Inquisitor has been kind enough to scour the land for some interesting bottles…. if you’re so inclined as to come with me.”

Hawke chuckled, scooping Varric’s duster off the chair behind him, and throwing it on over her tunic. She folded the sleeves up to her elbows, daring Varric with her eyes to object, and started off towards the door. Alistair followed the two, mystified about what would happen next.

The three adventured down to the cellar, spending the next half hour or so sniffing bottles and passing over ritewines after Alistair begrudingly explained what they were, before settling on a few choice bottles of Antivan, Tevinter and Nevarran spirits and wines. Together they darted from the cellar out into the courtyard, before deciding to take their little adventure to one of Skyhold’s wider rooftops. Varric ran back to his room once more to grab a blanket, which they spread over the roof, and together they sat and drank, chatting until the sky touched slightly lighter, and Hawke dozed gently between the two men.

As Varric took another swig from the bottle he’d selected, he noticed Alistair’s eyelids fluttering gently. With a chuckle he advised the warden, “She’s asleep now. You can go back to your bed, if you’ll be more comfortable.”

He nodded sleepily, turning to crawl from the roof to an easily accessible step onto the ramparts beside them. While he swaggered slightly, Alistair turned around in time to see Varric tenderly brushing Hawke’s hair away from her face.

-

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Alistair leave. Varric had other thoughts on his mind, however. Other cravings that needed addressing.

He and Hawke hadn’t been together since she’d first arrived, which granted was still less time between bursts than any other they’d spent together over the years, but nonetheless he felt some instinct surging in him. it was more than desiring closeness… When he heard she’d been blaming herself again, after all these years, he wanted to make sure she was left thinking of something sweet. Something she wasn’t guilty for. He wanted her to scream for something other than fear.

Hawke stirred slightly at his touch as he brushed the hair away from her face. She groaned ever so slightly. Varric smiled in reply. He may feel guilty about this later, but there wasn’t any going back now. He wanted to make sure she felt at peace when she fell asleep in his bed.

He nudged Hawke.

“Hawke, you dozed off there… Wake up,” he whispered, a wicked grin slipping onto his face when she actually rolled over and slid her cheek closer to his lap. He could feel her breath on his outer thigh, warm against the cool night air.

Growing bolder, he began to trace her face with his forefinger: first her jawline, then her lips. a devious grin appeared on his face as he dipped his fingers in the antivan wine and placed them gently on her lips, just slightly pulling back as he felt her tongue reply. He dragged his slightly wet finger from her chin, to her neck, following her pulse to her collarbone. Hawke opened one eye.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, groggily sitting up.

“I’m imagining you, pinned against the cold stone wall of my quarters,” Varric smirked, watching as her eyes popped open wide.

“Varric?! What ar–”

He held his finger back to her lips, giving her a warning glance.

“But first, I want us to live in the moment. Alistair went back to bed…. So before all of skyhold begins waking up, would you like to do something… irresponsible?”

Her nostrils seemed to flare in reply.

“Come on. What’s the most daring thing you’ve thought about doing together since we got here?”

Hawke considered a moment.

“There are… Possibilities. But why now? What’s gotten into you all of the sudden?”

Varric shrugged, “I’m taken with the mood. Maybe it was the drink. I wouldn’t look into it too deeply.”

Hawke frowned at the dwarf.

“Seriously, Hawke… I want to make you feel good.”

She sighed, “So Alistair talked to you, then. Fine. I’m not in the mood to analyze it right now, Varric. But if you’re giving me the go-ahead, then…”

Varric nodded, pulse quickening slightly.

Without another word, Hawke slid a hand onto Varric’s inner thigh, leaning close and sending a hot breath across his neck.

He shivered in response, and she grazed her teeth softly across his neck in reply. She slid her hand slowly from his inner thigh, til it rested on his already mostly hard cock. She grinned, watching as she elicited a response from him with her index finger, running it over the inseam of his trousers, teasing him lightly. She leaned over further and bit his shoulder, just hard enough for him to grunt in reply.

“Would you prefer I start here, or would you prefer we take this somewhere a bit more private?” She growled into his ear.

Varric barely suppressed a groan as Hawke began stroking him through his trousers.

“Whatever you decide to do, Maker’s breath, just do it quickly,” he groaned through gritted teeth, his hip bucking into Hawke’s hand as she stroked him once more, harder than before, “And make sure you take these trousers off because Andraste’s tits they are not helping!”

Hawke considered for a moment longer, leaving the dwarf in agonizing silence. Suddenly deciding, she dropped below him, pulling the taut drawstrings loose on his trousers and releasing Varric to the cool night air. She watched as goosebumps formed on the dwarf’s chest, chuckling as he looked nervously at her.

“Here? Really?”

“What, Varric? Afraid we’ll be caught?”

The words were meant to be issued as a playful challenge, but Hawke could tell Varric was reconsidering, if only slightly.

She had to remember their stance, their mantra.

They weren’t really together, even if it felt like it at times. Try as she might to pretend it was otherwise, she needed to remember that there were other factors, and that they needed to be careful about who knew they were together. So she sat back, allowing him to consider further.

Varric felt silly. He was sitting on a rooftop in the middle of the night, completely exposed, with his best friend ready to go. But the exposure put him on edge. What they had was private… Or at least, he preferred they pretended it be.

“Hawke… I’m sorry. I know I said it was your choice, but… lets go inside. please.”

She nodded, allowing him to cover himself once again.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Varric gave her an apologetic smile.

Hawke ran a hand up the back of her head, unable to hid her slight disappointment, “If you say so.”  

Varric balled his hands up in the front of the duster she was still wearing, pulling her into a fierce kiss, their teeth knocking slightly with effort. He pushed another kiss of hot breath into her mouth, stifling a gasp of surprise from Hawke.

“Meet me back at the room,” He growled, his voice growing low and husky with longing.

“Where are you going?”  Hawke was utterly confused.

“I just remembered a great way to keep my promise,” Varric couldn’t contain his grin.

-

Varric placed a gilded wooden box on the bed in front of Hawke reverently. She stared back at him quizzically, lips pursed in reply.

She sat crosslegged in his bed, arms folded in front of her. With a grin, he motioned to her to open it. He took the desk chair and pulled it closer to the bed, sitting on it backwards, hitching his legs over the sides and folding his arms over the chair back, looking at her expectantly.

“Apparently  these are really popular in Tevinter…” he tried to explain as she cracked the lid. She placed the now open box back on the bed, looking at its contents, which were clearly some sort of phallic stone. Hawke felt it react just barely as she opened the box– some sort of magical humming– which made her hesitant to pick it up.

“And this is meant to make things up to me?”

She still seemed somewhat unconvinced.

Varric scooped the stone object out of the box, turning it over in his hands. It was lightweight, sleek, moderately cool to the touch, and had intricately carved rivets, clearly meant for stimulation. 

“It will, if you give it a chance,” he chuckled, giving Hawke a devious grin.

“It works for just about everyone the normal way, but the reason I say its popular in Tevinter is because it reacts in a special way to magic users.”

He held the stone out toward Hawke, a smirk breaking on his lips as it began to just barely hum.

“I don’t know, Varric…”

She seemed nervous. Varric put it down for a moment, getting up off his chair and joining Hawke on the bed.

“Lets just start things off simple then. If you feel the need we can experiment with it later,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand softly, and placing a kiss on her left eyelid. This gesture made her smile, and she obliged, closing her eyes and allowing Varric to make quick work of getting closer to her.

He clumsily began tugging his duster from around her shoulders, baffled that she was still wearing it after all this time.

It was a miracle Alistair hadn’t said anything, though Varric was sure the man wasn’t daft enough not to notice the tender interactions between the two. He hoped that this could still remain their little secret, at least for a while longer.

Finally having the duster removed, Varric let his hands snake up Hawke’s thigh as he leaned in for a deep kiss. His stubble brushed her chin, and Hawke revelled in its familiarity. Some nights she dreamt of this very interaction; his breath warm on her lips, his rough hands just slightly tensing around her thighs as he nipped around her lips wantonly.

Hawke raked her fingers through the dwarf’s hair, kissing him hungrily. A groan escaped him as she moved to momentarily nip his earlobe, her tongue trailing the cool metal of his earring. She giggled as he shuddered slightly.

“I didn’t know your ears were so sensitive,” she giggled as a bit of blood began to color the dwarf’s cheeks.

“I’m allowed to still have some surprises, aren’t I?”

“Yes sir,” she purred, her hands trailing to Varric’s burly chest. She hooked her fingers around the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up and laughing slightly as it caught on his arms. He seemed to have gotten a bit more muscular since their Kirkwall days, she’d noticed, and she licked her lips when his sinewy arms came fully into view.

“Been playing with Bianca lately?” She smirked, giving his arm a squeeze.

He fell silent, her train of thought not quite hitting the notes she’d meant it to. A pang of guilt washed over Hawke before he realized that hadn’t been what she’d meant.

He tried to recover, replying apologetically, “Well, temporarily I’ve essentially taken on the role of demonslayer, so technically,” but Hawke shook her head, grabbing the tie in her hair and ripping it out, letting her hair cascade down her shoulder in a fit of frustration.

“Tonight, lets not worry about her. please!”

Varric sighed, “You’re right. I wanted to make tonight about you, and the only thing I’m doing is a great job at fucking it up.”

“I don’t care how badly you fuck it up. As long as you’re fucking me at the end of the night, we’ll call it even.”

While it was said with a slight huff, Varric knew Hawke was granting him his moment to recover. gratefully he accepted, giving her a knowing nod and a slight smile. Without another word,  he gave her a firm push, and pinned her to the bed below them with his hand placed squarely on her chest. with one hand, he held her arms above her head, firmly gripping both her wrists between his fingers, and lifting the bottom of her tunic with his other. His nose continued the movement, til the tunic was pushed up to her ribcage, and methodically he began placing kisses on her stomach, and the bottom of her sternum. His non-dominant hand moved back into position and held her still pinned to the bed when she tried to wriggle, his dominant hand’s fingers tensing in warning against her wrists. She stopped squirming, air hissing between her teeth when he ran his tongue over the bottom edge of her sternum, and trailed the bottoms of her breasts, teeth dragging lightly at her breastband. his hand left the center of her chest as he began to lightly caress her breasts over her clothing. the stimulation was light, gentle teasing, but it left her craving more.

the words barely left her lips.

“Please, Varric…”

“Begging already, Hawke?” Varric smirked.

She sat up with a great force and rounded on the dwarf. she placed her hands on his shoulders, guiding him backwards to the cold stone wall. She took to her knees. She had wanted to do this on the roof, after all.

“Hold my hair back a moment, would you?” she gasped after tearing the tunic off herself. Varric looked on at her, bewildered as she sat on the floor in nothing but her breastband and smallclothes,  beginning to work on the ties of his trousers. hungrily she tore away at them, til they gave way and he stood before her, nearly fully erect. She wrapped her fingers around him, pumping softly and beginning to run a hand lightly up his thighs. She caressed his balls lightly, cupping, stroking, and smirking when he moaned and flattened against the wall behind them. His head pressed flush to the wall, she saw for a brief moment his eyes scrunched tight, fighting the natural feeling of letting go completely.

“Hold out as long as you possibly can. I want to enjoy this,” She smirked, placing her tongue at the base of his cock. She ran her tongue down, and began sucking lightly at his balls. He whimpered only slightly, fingers intertwining tightly in her hair, and pulling slightly with her as they established a rhythm. Her breath was hot against him, and he was quickly having trouble keeping himself upright. It was Hawke’s turn to pin the dwarf as his legs shook, and he threatened to give out when she pulled him fully into her open mouth. Keeping him still, she pressed his wrists firmly against the stone walls, tasting as his slightly bitter essence began to dribble onto her tongue. She relished in the movement for a few moments, pumping him in and out of her, before tasting another bit of precum.

She allowed him to pull out briefly, tutting to him, “patience.”

He paid her no mind as he ripped away from her grip. He grabbed at her breastband, pulling her as close as possible to him. They leaned heavily against the wall, face to face, both gasping for breath.

“I want you here and now,” Varric growled, still breathing heavily.

“Then try to take me,” Hawke issued her challenge, a devious look on her face.

She grabbed at his ponytail, pulling his head up to meet her in another rough kiss. The two fought for dominance, hungrily pressing closely together, both wanting to take control. Hawke forced Varric’s head to the side, pressing her lips roughly to his neck, nipping until he gave a satisfactory grunt. A deep red mark showed on his neck when she pulled away. He ripped himself free after a moment, grabbing Hawke around the middle and wrestling her to the ground. Varric sat heavily on her back and effectively pinned her shoulders down with his legs. She protested, squirming until Varric’s fingers found their mark– tugging her smallclothes aside, he rubbed gently at first, spreading her wetness and admiring her delicate folds with reverence.

Hawke’s breathing hitched slightly at the movement.

Varric reached over to the bed, snagging the corner of the gilded box with his index finger, while his other hand continued to tease her. He grabbed the box and placed it beside them, pulling out a small vial of rosy liquid. Placing the cork between his teeth, he made quick work of opening the vial, empyting some of its contents onto his free hand.

He sat back on his haunches for a brief moment, a strange sensation hitting him.

“Varric?”

“Maker’s breath I think I’ve smelled this perfume on the Inquisitor before…”

Realization dawned on Varric, as he finally saw what the two mages may have been doing in their spare time. He suppressed a chuckle for the moment. There were more important things at hand. Before Hawke could protest further, his free hand found its way to the lips of her most sensitive spot. The lubricant was heating up ever so slightly, giving him a slight tingle in his fingers. He worked it around her entrance first, taking in every movement and sigh that came from her in reply.

Finally he gently inserted one finger, curling it up into her ever so slightly. She moaned loudly.

“You’ll wake the entire Inquisition if you keep that up,” he smirked, withdrawing, and replacing two fingers. another curl. He could feel the rough membrane of her g-spot. If he could keep up the rhythm, then it would only be a matter of time…  

“Varric please! That’s not enough!” She was panting nonetheless, “I need you.”

“Can we try the Tevinter toy first?”

Hawke let out a muffled sob as he flexed his fingers once more before withdrawing them, “Yes, okay lets do it now please–”

Varric climbed off her back finally, getting the stone toy ready. Hawke tore off her smallclothes, and Varric sat behind her, willing her to lean back onto him, against the stone wall. He took her hands in his own, and placed the dildo in one hand, and the remainder of the lubricant in the other. His face lit up with a satisfied grin as the stone began to hum softly as they applied the lubricant together.

“This will feel good, Hawke… I promise you,” the words were hissed into her ear, followed by his lips on her neck. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when he began to suck on her, following with a slight nip. She moaned, his hands falling back to her chest for a brief moment. 

His fingers hooked on her breastband, hitching it over her breasts before he began to tweak her nipples. he began gently at first, alternating between kissing her neck and ear roughly, and playing with her breasts. finally he returned to her lap, guiding her with toy in hand to insert it just slightly. The toy began to hum louder, seeming to sense her urgency.

She shuddered, moaning as it moved inside her. With one hand, Varric covered her mouth, and the other took hold of the toy for her. He began rocking it slightly inside her, watching with satisfaction as her hips bucked in reply. His cock throbbed painfully beneath her, but he ignored it the best he could for the time being. She seemed to enjoy the toy immensely, lost in the sensation for the moment. She moaned and gasped into his hand, before taking her own hands and slipping them into his lap from behind her. She pumped in time with his own movement, and they rocked together for a moment.

Unable to take it any longer, Varric removed the toy suddenly and gave Hawke a playful shove forward. Landing on her hands and knees, she was taken slightly off guard as the dwarf moved to mount her. She placed her hands on the bed for support as the dwarf’s hands clasped her hips, and he entered easily, Hawke moaning loud and hard at the effort. Varric pumped into her a few times for good measure before pausing to grab the toy for one last idea.

“Hold still,” he muttered as Hawke turned partially back to face him. She obliged, pressing her ass against him, and feeling his eagerness nearly overtake him. She ran her hand over his slick member, begging that he return. She pulled him back into her when he was in range, making a tight circle with her forefinger and thumb around his cock, closing her fingers slightly when he moved. Air hissed through his teeth as pleasure washed over him, but he wasn’t content to simply let her have her way yet. He took the stone in his hand and guided it over her clit, grinning when he heard it hum to life loudly. Hawke squeaked, her body squeezing him in reply to the movement.

“Varric, you’ll send me over the edge if you’re not careful–” she moaned, forcing her knuckle into her mouth to keep from crying out. Varric chuckled, his voice coming in low and husky, “That is the plan, isn’t it?”

He knew she would be coming soon. He concentrated on keeping the toy still over her clit; the vibrations seemed  to intensify by the moment. At last he felt her pulse and quiver, and with that he increased his rhythm until he went over the edge with her, both of them grunting and moaning with their release. As Hawke’s hips bucked, she  grabbed his cock at the base, pumping it in her hand in motion with their hips, causing him to moan louder into her back. They collapsed together in a pile of sweat and orgasm, the pair unable to stop grinning at their own foolishness. Varric bent Hawke’s neck back slightly towards him, giving her a mildly sweaty kiss on the lips. She grinned, eyes closing as sleep threatened to overtake her.

“Thanks for being foolish with me,” she mumbled as she drifted off, enveloped in his sinewy arms.

-

Hawke awoke to voices near the bedchamber door. She shook Varric’s shoulder, rousing the dwarf slightly, and ducked under the covers as best she could.

“Varric, mind if I come in for a moment?”

The Inquisitor’s voice was tough to mistake from the other side of the door. Varric rubbed sleep from his eye, groaning something about the harsh sunlight filtering into the room, and piling as much blanket onto his lap as he could manage. Morning wood plagued him today it seemed. The door opened and the Inquisitor stuck his head into the room for a brief moment.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“What would you be interrupting?” Varric cracked a grin, trying to remain calm as he couldn’t tell whether he imagined it, or if Hawke’s fingers were slowly scaling his thigh.

the little shit.

He felt her drawing little circles and question marks with her forefinger. He wanted to scream internally.

“We’ve got a meeting with Leliana in about an hour. She seemed displeased that someone took to the roofs last night for a starlit viewing party and didn’t clean up after themselves.”

Evinn winked at Varric, who coughed slightly at the insinuation.

“What can I say? Last night Hawke and Alistair came knocking on my door complaining about nightmares, and we improvised some strategies for keeping their minds intact,” he tried, shrugging. His hand massaged at a tender spot on his neck distractedly.

Evinn conceded with a nod, “If you see Hawke, remind her that Leliana doesn’t appreciate setting a bad example for the recruits. No one can seem to find Her at the moment, and Leliana’s already had a word with Alistair, it seems…”

He took one last look at the lump to Varric’s right, before turning to leave.

Varric chuckled.

“If I see her, I’ll let her know, Inquisitor. By the way, you’re smelling lovely this morning. Very rosy.”

As the door snapped shut, Varric could swear all he could see were Evinn’s ears turning a lovely shade of crimson.


	11. Desperately Seeking Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke!Varric post Adamant angst. male!Inquisitor Trevelyan [my personal Inquisitor is named Evinn, feel free to sub your own if it makes sense for you] speaks with Varric about his feelings. [this fic also uses my Hawke, Ghena’s name. feel free to sub your own should you desire]

 

_**In the week following the run-in at Adamant**_ , Varric was inconsolable. Anyone who tried to talk to him was met with an emotionless, bleary-eyed stare and a brush off of, “Maybe another time. I have letters to write.”

Evinn noted the dwindling supply of whiskey that sat next to Varric’s unusually full bottle of ink as the week passed.

In truth, Varric had yet to complete a single letter. He had multiple started, but they all seemed so… Lacking in the message to be conveyed. So, there they sat, half written and tear stained, more than a few with a splash of the bottle staining their corners.

Without Varric’s knowledge, Evinn asked Leliana to keep her eyes on him, to do what the Inquisition could to keep him on track. Leliana agreed, but reminded Evinn that he didn’t know what it was like to lose someone so close. It would take time for Varric to recover, if he ever did. Evinn conceded after a while, and let her go about business as usual.

On a particularly difficult evening, Evinn walked past Varric’s post in the throne room, noting the dwarf’s sudden but subtle contempt for the things around him. He was in the middle of a swig of Antivan wine, kindly placed on his desk by Josephine earlier that day, when Evinn approached him.

“Care to take a walk?” Evinn ventured, watching the dwarf go to pour himself another cup.

A gravelly half laugh escaped Varric’s lips.

“Damn lot of good it’d do me. Everything in this damn place reminds me of what I’ve done. Even the damn garden mocks me.”

His fingers twitched around the glassware he held tightly in his fist.

“Varric,”

Evinn’s voice was apologetic, but more than a bit cautionary.

Varric’s eyes snapped angrily to the Inquisitor’s face.

“What?!”

Evinn tried again, gentler this time, “Varric, please. Come take a walk with me. I need a breath of fresh air.”

Varric looked darkly at the bottom of his glass, contemplating for a brief moment the possibility of hurling it at the Inquisitor. He flexed his fingers around the glass again.

“If that’s what you really want, boss.”

the last word came out as a sneer.

He deposited the glass on the table, and got to his feet. He looked a proper mess, hair partially falling out of his usually neat half-ponytail, and stubble longer than Evinn had seen before. He offered an arm for the dwarf to steady himself, but Varric shoved past acting like a child having a tantrum.

“I don’t need your pity,” he snarled.

The two walked in silence for a moment.

“I don’t feel like I’m taking pity on you, Varric. I consider you a friend. Everyone here in the Inquisition does. We thought of Hawke as a friend too–”

Varric’s heart sank at the mention of her name.

“Inquisitor, what are you trying to accomplish here?”

“I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking.”

“I’ll say. Do you know how many times I go over this whole Maker-damned situation in my head? How much pain would have been spared if I’d left Hawke out of this? This is my fault!”

Varric stood stone still, hands balled into fists and choking back tears.

“She is dead. Because of the Inquisition. Because of me. And her brother doesn’t even get a body to bury. Because of me.”

The words rang out around the garden, but died out in the breeze of the cool night.

Evinn instinctively reached out and wrapped Varric in a great bear hug. The dwarf struggled against his touch, trying to squirm away, but Evinn held him tightly in place.

“Its not your fault,” Evinn’s voice was firm, but gentle, “She made a conscious choice, and she decided to take Alistair’s place. Its not your fault, Varric, believe me when I say its not your fault.”

Varric stared incredulously at Evinn, opened his mouth, then closed it when he couldn’t form the words he needed. Evinn felt his straining stop. After a moment, he spoke.

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

His voice came as a hollow whisper.

Evinn seemed unsure of how to answer. He let go of Varric, taking a step back.

“I agreed with her decision, Varric… Alistair was a warden present at the killing of the Archdemon. and the senior most Warden left at Adamant. Without him, the Wardens would be left at square one. I’m sorry Varric, but Hawke made a decision when no one else could, and I respected that.”

Varric couldn’t look Evinn in the face. He instead found himself focusing on the potted elfroot, eyes stinging with tears.

“That sounds just like her,” he puffed, “Shit.”

His shoulders began to shake as sobs overtook him.

Evinn guided Varric over to a bench in the garden, placing a burly arm around his shoulder. The dwarf struggled to regain his composure. He didn’t normally take things so hard. He didn’t even react this way when Bartrand left. So why now?

“Hawke was such a crybaby,” he sniffed, looking at the ground near the Inquisitor’s feet, “I was always the one who held her as she cried. Its a shame she couldn’t return the favor.”

Evinn gave Varric’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

“Feel like telling a story about her? I didn’t get to know her as well as I’d liked to have, aside from what she screamed when she thought you two were alone–”

Evinn couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth. His widened eyes shot to Varric for a reaction, begging forgiveness. Varric merely seemed embarassed, and caught quite off guard.

“You, ah, heard that, huh?”

“We did… It wasn’t our place to pry though, so we hadn’t brought it up,” Evinn answered carefully.

“Ugh, good to know Sparkler has some dirt on me too,” Varric groaned, voice still tinged with grief.

“He’s more tactful than you give him credit for,” Evinn tried, “Likely he’ll note the time to share has passed.”

“Essentially, he has more tact than you,”

Varric gave a grim smirk.

Evinn nodded, cheeks going red.

“At the very least.”

Varric sighed.

“So a story about Hawke, eh? What do you want to know?”

Evinn noted to himself that in the silence of the garden, with the rock of the night breeze, Cole’s feet dangled from the wall beside them. No doubt drawn to Varric’s anguish, he wondered whether or not Cole would intervene. Nonetheless, he didn’t acknowledge the spirit’s presence for the moment.

“What was she like? Who was Ghena Hawke to you?”

Varric sifted over the answer in his mind before taking a deep breath.

“”She was a mage, like you, Inquisitor. A sharp minded, fiercely intelligent girl who usually responded to pressure with sarcasm or biting humor. She loved her brother and friends, and protected them like they were her greatest treasure. Her brother hated that about her, felt like she coddled him too much, and thus pushed her away. Nonetheless, hearing she’s gone will not be easy for him. They were the last of their family, you see.

Hawke’s younger sister, Bethany, died on their way to Kirkwall. Her father died three years before that, and their mother was murdered by a serial killer blood mage while the templar aggression in Kirkwall was happening. Hawke nearly lost her brother, if not for Alistair and the Grey Wardens, and a little help from a… Well, an old friend of ours. That was during our expedition to the Deep Roads, and where we first encountered Red Lyrium.”

“And what did she mean to you?” Evinn urged the dwarf on, but Varric sat back and bit his lip, silence overtaking him.

After a moment, he spoke, in a soft voice, “I can’t really say what she meant to me. Not in tangible words, I mean. She was my best friend. This cynically optimistic force in my life that kept everything else in check. I always promised her that once I got my personal affairs figured out, that we’d decide once and for all what we were, but my affairs never fell into place. Literally,” grief broke in his voice again, cracking rough in his throat, “I’ll never get to tell her how I feel. How I felt…”

Cole jumped to his feet now, advancing upon the dwarf.

“Pain, gripping the chest and sitting there like a stone. The Hawk has flown away, leaving unresolved feelings and gaping pains. She loved you, and that you know, but did she ever know how much you felt for her? the agony of never knowing is holding you down, compressing that stone. Guilt from the one you never let go. You thought there’d always be time, after the world stopped ending. Time to let her go. Time to let go.”

Varric’s fingers massaged his temple softly.

“Maker I hate it when you do that."

Evinn looked bewildered in Cole’s direction.

 


	12. Favor for a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were never star-crossed lovers, they were simply a star-crossed what-if, Varric told himself. 
> 
> Hawke knew it too. She knew his heart belonged to another, but it didn’t help her sleep better at night.
> 
> A collection of stories chronicling the romance between F!Hawke & Varric Tethras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 years post Adamant - Varric visits Hawke's grave, as he does every year.

 

_** This was his least favorite time of year. ** _

There was an ever increasing amount of dread that permeated him when it approached. He made the trip each time with reverence, figuring if he didn’t, then there were likely few who would. After all, her family were all gone by now.

Carver was the last, taken by the calling.

He cursed the Grey Wardens under his breath.

Sod them. Sod it all. She wasn’t meant to go out like this.

He approached the grave site. A small bouquet of white roses were placed at the stone’s base, wrapped in a red ribbon. It looked freshly swept.

Must have been Aveline and Donnic, Varric thought to himself.

He was glad he didn’t meet them in passing, as he knew things would get messy.

He knew deep down Aveline blamed him for what happened. Hell, he blamed himself.

He placed his own small offering at the base of the stone. The bunch of lilacs were small, pitiful against the bouquet of roses. He chuckled, a gnarled sound that rasped out of him. The silence was heavy. Oppressive.

“I’m so sorry Hawke,” was all he could manage.

His body began to quake as uncontrollable sobs took over. He cursed under his breath, tears clouding his vision.

It had been 10 years. 10 long years of searching for a way to find her. Searching for a way to find release.

But no.

“You had to go to the one place I couldn’t follow…” he muttered between sobbing gasps.

Footsteps behind Varric caused him to whirl around, ragged breath caught in his throat. A cloaked figure leaned heavily on their staff, not saying a word.

Varric’s voice came out as more of a croak than anything else.

“Blondie?”

The cloaked figure sighed.

“Chuckles, actually,” he stated softly, removing his hood.

Solas stooped beside Varric, placing a white lily at the grave.

Varric couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“She would have hated that… I don’t think you know what white lilies mean to her. What brings you here? You weren't close to Hawke…”

Solas cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.

“She never mentioned them,” he muttered casually.

Varric dried his tears on his sleeve, turning to face the elf, “And what does that mean?”

Solas looked uncomfortable.

“Her spirit was trapped in the Fade, was it not?”

Varric’s expression turned to stone.

“You haven’t. She’s dead. They told me she died 10 years ago.”

Solas chose his words carefully.

“It is true, she is no longer living, in the natural sense. However, in the Fade not everything is as it seems. I have had opportunities in my dreams to converse with many spirits, and… Oddities, if you’ll forgive the word. While dreaming at Adamant, I had the pleasure of stumbling upon her, and we’ve had many talks since then… She’s told me many stories. About her time in Kirkwall, her experiences with the Grey Wardens, and about her previous companions. But the most striking thing… Was the way she spoke about you, master Tethras.”

Varric shuddered. He was furious. He wanted to throttle Solas for suggesting the idea that she was simply in some place tangible to all but him. It made the pit of his stomach knot up with bitterness.

“Why did you ignore me when I reached out to you all these years? I tried to find you for this exact reason. I gave up trying after six years of searching. Not that it matters. Since you hid after the fight with Corypheus. I don’t care why you ran from the Inquisition. I wrote you and had my spies trying to track you, only to have you vanish like smoke. For years! And now you’re suddenly here so conveniently! And why? To tell me you’ve been having idle conversations with my best friend, who died because of me, in the one place I cannot reach?”

The words came as a roar. A howl of pain.

Solas bit his lip, feeling the anger radiate off of Varric.

“My disappearance is for reasons of my own, master Tethras, but my reappearance is at the behest of another.”

He closed his eyes, pulling out a vial of deep crimson liquid, placing it on top of the headstone.

“It is not much, but this is what I can offer you. It is a chance to say goodbye, if nothing else… She misses you.”

Solas’ hands returned beneath his cloak, and he watched as Varric plucked up the small vial, turning it over in his palm.

It radiated heat and seemed to glow.

“What’s the catch?” he breathed, eying the elf.

“This must be done under my supervision, and can only be done once. It is largely untested, and we are running off of theory, master Tethras. I will not be giving you the recipe, and I will not be here when you awake. I ask that you do not follow me, and that you stop pursuing me. These are my stipulations.”

Varric swallowed back the lump in his throat. He thought about how he must look: his face lined heavily from years of regret. His hair was no longer the glorious sandy blonde it had been in the past. It was now ruddy, streaked with gray. He wondered if his grief-addled mind dreamt up the circumstances.

He sighed, his hand running through his hair.

“What do I need to do?”

 

 

 

 

Solas laid the glyph around Varric, moving with poise and precision. Once the glowing rune lay around him, he asked Varric to uncork the vial. Varric did so, but bit back a disgusted noise as the vial released a putrid smell.

Solas held his ground.

“Now master Tethras, you will need to drink it.”

Varric raised an eyebrow, “How did I know you were going to say that. Ugh.”

Solas seemed slightly amused.

“Safe dreams, master Tethras. Safe dreams,” he said, as Varric tipped the vial down his throat, and collapsed heavily to the ground at the foot of the headstone.

 

 

 

 

 

Varric awoke in the Fade. He stood, stretching, and looked in to the distance. There sat the Black City, far in the distance. He stood there for a moment, daring to take in the sights around him, when a voice behind him caused his stomach to flip slightly.

“The years haven’t been very kind to you, have they, my friend?”

He chuckled, rounding to see her: his Hawke. His Champion.


End file.
